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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28910892">immortal sin</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/yunsans/pseuds/yunsans'>yunsans</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>ATEEZ (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>And a nymphomaniac, Angst, Attempted Suicide, BDSM, Barebacking, Begrudging allies to lovers, Blowjobs, Choking, Denial of Feelings, Depression, Dom/sub Undertones, Edging but make it magical, Eventual Smut, Hongjoong wears a lot of robes, Housewife Seonghwa, Hurt/Comfort, It gets sad later you have been warned, Like seriously the first chapter is really gruesome please be cautious, M/M, Minor SeongJoong, Modern Fantasy AU, Morning Sex, Ok this got a lot more heartbreaking than I intended so I'm gonna leave this tag here enjoy, Orgasm Denial, Rough Sex, San is an alcoholic, San is kind of a dick, Slow Burn, Smut, Suicidal Thoughts, This whole fic just has heavy heavy themes of death, Time Travel, Torture, ambiguous end, dom san, except the epilogue but still ambiguous end, graphic depictions of suicide attempts, here to stress AMBIGUOUS END, ouchie, there's magic involved</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 11:29:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>90,428</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28910892</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/yunsans/pseuds/yunsans</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Wooyoung's eyes stung as they shuttered open. A hot white light filtered in first, burning his pupils.</p><p>Was this heaven? Was it supposed to hurt this badly? He took a moment to assess his condition: limbs in tact, definitely not dead, and holy shit—who the hell was that guy with his hand pressed to his chest?</p><p>“No need to thank me,” the man grumbled. His voice was deep and gritty, laced with what Wooyoung immediately recognized as a heavy dose of annoyance. “Don’t look for me after this, got it? I was never here.”</p><p>(Alternatively: After waking up from a fatal fall, Wooyoung develops the strange ability to freeze time and the inability to die, and a mysterious man might have something to do with it)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Choi San/Jung Wooyoung</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>385</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>472</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. memento mori</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Okay so this chapter is pretty dark, check the tags but a heavy theme in this chapter is suicide. This should be the last chapter that's really like this though!! I'll do a brief (less graphic detail) tl;dr summary at the end for anyone who needs it.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>Wooyoung’s feet teetered precariously on the edge of the rooftop, his toes kissing the air just over the concrete guard rail. He craned his head downwards, examining the fall, assessing the potential damage. Certain death, undeniably—and, hopefully, instant. Painless.</p>
<p>His mind was resolved. It was over. It was over the day he stepped out of his apartment that morning, not even bothering to lock the door after letting it slam closed behind him. It was over the moment he brewed his last cup of shitty, bitter black coffee that burned as it slid down his throat. There was something almost comical about going through his morning routine as if any of it mattered anymore. It didn’t.</p>
<p>Nothing anyone could do or say would change his mind in this moment, not one word or a thousand. He had nothing to return to, and therefore nothing to lose. He had too few fingers to count the amount of times he had planned this moment down to the very last step off the edge. </p>
<p>His feet hesitated slightly, knees wobbling, though he recognized this reaction as simple human instinct, nothing more.</p>
<p>He closed his eyes for a moment, pressing the lids together forcefully. He thought of things he was thankful for—friends he had once upon a time, his mom’s soup on a chilly winter afternoon, that one time he saw his favorite band in concert and <em> almost </em>got to touch the lead singer’s hand. Almost. There was nothing like that now, though. Nothing to be thankful for, no one to care about. And, most importantly, no one left to care about him. </p>
<p>That made this so much easier. He wouldn’t be missed.</p>
<p>He shuffled forward, letting two inches of his foot dangle over the edge. What was he delaying it for, anyway? It didn’t matter what happened now, it would all end the same. </p>
<p>If his mom were still alive, he would have told her goodbye before he took his final step. In fact, if his mom were still alive, she may have been the only one in the universe capable of talking him down. If his mom were still alive, maybe his world wouldn’t have fallen to pieces around him. </p>
<p>Instead, his final thought was<em> I’ll see you on the other side, mom. </em></p>
<p>His foot stepped on to nothing, and his body followed. He had half a thought that his life might flash before his eyes as he fell, but truthfully, the last thing he recalled was the feeling of his heart dropping through his stomach the first time his childhood best friend, Yeosang, forced him to ride a roller coaster. </p>
<p>Falling felt exactly like that. </p>
<p>He was conscious just long enough to register a sickening <em> crack </em> before his world went black.</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>

</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His eyes stung as they shuttered open. A hot white light filtered in first, burning his pupils. </p>
<p>Was this heaven? Was it supposed to hurt this badly? He took a moment to assess his condition: limbs in tact, definitely not dead, and<em> holy shit </em>—who the hell was that guy with his hand pressed to his chest?</p>
<p>This was definitely <em> not </em> heaven. Wooyoung immediately registered his surroundings as the alleyway he had carefully surveyed before jumping, to make sure it was out of the way—after all, he didn’t want to jump into a busy street, traumatizing a bunch of innocent bystanders. He just wanted to leave this world as quietly and painlessly as possible. </p>
<p>“No need to thank me,” the man grumbled. His voice was deep and gritty, laced with what Wooyoung immediately recognized as a heavy dose of annoyance. “Don’t look for me after this, got it? I was never here.” </p>
<p>Wooyoung let his eyes adjust to the man’s face. His features were striking, almost inhumanly so, although his vision was a bit fogged from the headache that pounded through his skull. Still, he could make out the sharp cut of his jaw, the cat-like slant of his eyes, and his airbrush-smooth skin. He leaned over Wooyoung, one knee dug into the concrete, the other holding himself upright. His lips parted slightly in concentration as he pressed his hand to Wooyoung’s chest firmly. </p>
<p>Maybe he was his guardian angel? A grim reaper maybe, sending him to the after-life? Wooyoung wasn’t sure he believed in any of that, but he also wasn’t sure he believed in the chance of surviving a 300-foot fall onto solid concrete, either.</p>
<p>Wooyoung was also able to register now, among everything else he had to worry about, that he felt like absolute hell. His lips parted, but they barely made a comprehensible sound, instead releasing a strained croak, then erupting into a cough.</p>
<p>The man removed his hand quickly, shaking it off exaggeratedly as if he’d just touched something dirty. His lips drew closed, eyebrows threading together, expression forming into a wince. “Well, this was fun. Enjoy your life, kid.”</p>
<p>“Wait—who are—”</p>
<p>Wooyoung barely blinked, and the man was gone—<em> poof, </em>out of thin air, like he never existed. Was this what the afterlife was? Just some off-kilter continuation of his previous life, where weird men touched his chest and then disappeared?</p>
<p>He laid on the ground motionless for what felt like an eternity. He wasn’t sure what he was waiting for, short of dying, which didn’t seem like it was going to happen any time soon. It was probably time to stand up.</p>
<p>His body ached with astounding force as he attempted to sit up, and his head felt like it had been bashed in with a hammer, reconstructed from pieces of his skull, and bashed again for good measure. He sat for a second, letting his hands examine the concrete, only now noticing the puddles of fresh blood forming shallow pools around him. </p>
<p>“Shit,” he cursed under his breath, attempting to wipe the blood off on his pants, which somehow made it all worse. </p>
<p>Hw was it that he was covered in blood, and yet—despite the searing pain encompassing pretty much every inch of his body—not actively bleeding anywhere? Worse yet, how was he supposed to get back up to his apartment covered in his own blood?  He supposed he didn’t really have a choice, short of stripping naked and making a run for it. His former option was probably better.</p>
<p>His apartment wasn’t exactly the <em> nicest </em>, anyway. The kind of people who lived there likely wouldn’t bat an eye at a man walking around the hallways covered head-to-toe in his own blood.</p>
<p>His apartment. Right.</p>
<p>He pulled himself to his feet, doing his best to conceal the wince that settled on his face. Falling was supposed to be painless, but somehow he ended up with all of the pain and absolutely zero of the death. He took one last look at the mess he left behind, a gruesome scene of blood—<em> so much blood </em>—it looked like he must have flayed someone alive. The syrupy blood made his clothes stick to his back, tacky and uncomfortable as he walked.</p>
<p>The short walk from the alley to the building was surreal at best. He didn’t run into anyone, thankfully, but he spent the whole trip on high alert, shooting paranoid glances over his shoulder every few seconds. His limbs ached as he ascended the stairs to the 6th floor, cursing the elevator for being seemingly perpetually out of order. </p>
<p>His front door mocked him as he approached.</p>
<p>
  <em> Notice of Eviction: Resident has 24 hours to vacate the premises </em>
</p>
<p>Make that 8 hours now.</p>
<p>Wooyoung gripped the edge of the paper between his fingers, tearing straight down the middle with a harsh<em> rip. </em> The other half fluttered to the carpeted hallway floor, and it crinkled under his shoes as he stepped over it through the doorway.</p>
<p>The place was a mess, not that it mattered much anymore. Dishes piled in the sink, wrecked with slimy food residue and week-old grime. Clothes, both dirty and clean, were strewn over his bedroom floor, like his closet blew up. Maybe he should have donated them before he went through with his plans, but he supposed<em> someone </em> would eventually. In his living room: one sad piece of furniture, a lonely futon in the middle of the room. He really hated this apartment. He wasn’t mad about being evicted, more-so about the being-homeless part. </p>
<p>How the hell was he still alive? He just fell from a thirty-story high rise—no person, or thing, for that matter—could survive that kind of fall. There was absolutely no way in hell. This whole thing felt like some sort of sick fever dream. </p>
<p>He changed out of his bloodstained clothes, almost in a trance. He felt like he was on another plane of reality. In fact, that might have been the only plausible explanation. His hands were coated in his own dried blood, splattered entirely in a dark shade of crimson. He should probably wash those. He examined his face in the mirror, twisting his jaw in every angle possible. His lips, dry and chapped, parted in awe as he took in the notable lack of scuffs, blood, or pretty much any indication that he’d just jumped off his 30-story apartment building. </p>
<p>He had pretty much zero to go off of, except for the strange man who’d been there when he woke up, and—</p>
<p>
  <em> Oh my god. </em>
</p>
<p>Whatever this glowing thing on his hand was. Wooyoung stumbled back, when he saw it. He held his right palm to his face, admiring the glowing lines cautiously. They made up a symbol, one he couldn’t make sense of for the life of him. It looked kind of like a watch, or maybe like a compass, but more like the incoherent scribblings of some ancient society he’d studied in high school. The light pulsed gently, and the glow was dim and distant. He ran the index finger of his other hand lightly over the faint lines. They didn’t feel raised or concave, but instead flush with his skin. The only indicator of their presence was the slowly fading glow. </p>
<p>And it was gone. It left behind a weak tan outline, that blended with his skin color to look more like a scar than anything. A weird, eerie, alien-abduction-looking scar. </p>
<p>
  <em>What the fuck. </em>
</p>
<p>He wasn’t sure what to do but pace, tracing circles with his footsteps around the apartment. His thoughts went everywhere and nowhere at once, producing no great leads. </p>
<p>He stopped in his tracks suddenly, an epiphany hitting him like a lightning bolt from the heavens. Why was he wasting time on this? He’d just been trying to end his own life. Nothing had changed except failure, and a whole lot of weirdness in between. He’d just try again. </p>
<p>He wasn’t going to jump again. Clearly, that wasn’t going to work. </p>
<p>Pills.</p>
<p>He scrambled through the medicine cabinet in his bathroom, gathering every last pill, prescription or not, that he had in his apartment. He wasn’t sure which one was most effective, so he decided he’d take a handful of all, for good measure—washed down with a hefty serving (or five) of the last bottle of vodka in his alcohol cupboard. It burned like hell going down his throat, but he supposed it wouldn’t matter in a bit anyway. </p>
<p>He took a seat on the futon, waiting for the pills to kick in. It shouldn’t take long—his portions were overkill. He flipped on the small TV in the corner of the room, letting the background noise lull him into a trance.</p>
<p>At some point he remembered his vision going static, fading slowly into the black abyss.</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>His eyes blinked open slowly.</p>
<p>
  <em> Fuck. </em>
</p>
<p>How long had he been out? And better yet, how was he still alive? The same TV program he had passed out to still played in the background, so he couldn’t have been out for that long. </p>
<p>He felt completely normal. It was like his body hit reset. How? He downed bottles and bottles of God knows what. </p>
<p>Maybe it wasn’t enough. </p>
<p>Back to the medicine cabinet. He poured pills and pills down his throat, shoving down so many that he thought he might choke to death before he died of an overdose. Another swig of vodka. There was no way he could survive it this time. </p>
<p>He laid on the ground this time, waiting for the TV static to cloud his vision, waiting for his body to shut down, to pull him away into the realm of the dead. </p>
<p>Black, then light. </p>
<p>
  <em> God fucking damn it.  </em>
</p>
<p>He didn’t want it to come to this, he really didn’t. </p>
<p>He stumbled to the kitchen, letting his feet do most of the work of keeping him upright. He might have felt physically sober, but he was pretty much completely losing it from a mental standpoint. He slid one of the drawers open, procuring the sharpest knife he could find. </p>
<p>He didn’t even bother finding a comfortable spot to sit in before pressing the edge of the blade to his skin, applying the necessary pressure to slice through the flesh. It stung like hell. His skin lit on fire as he applied a second slice. Blood dribbled down his forearms, dripping to the kitchen tile to form tiny pools of crimson. </p>
<p>He switched the knife to the other hand. If he wanted this to work, and quickly, he’d have to do both sides. </p>
<p>
  <em> Wait, what the— </em>
</p>
<p>He watched, eyes wide as the wounds begin to seal themselves over. It was as if his cuts were cauterizing themselves. His skin seemed to form together, stitching over with new, healthy skin. It wasn’t even 30 seconds before the scars formed, then sunk into his skin, leaving his just-sliced wrists smooth and undisturbed.</p>
<p>
  <em> No. No way. No way, this wasn’t happening. </em>
</p>
<p>Maybe this was the afterlife. You couldn’t kill yourself in the afterlife, right? But he also shouldn’t have been able to feel <em> so much pain</em>. He had felt every slice, every inch of the blade tearing through his flesh. This was torture. This was worse than dying. So, so much worse. </p>
<p>He scrambled to the closet in his bedroom, locking eyes with a safe that sat on a shelf in the corner. He entered the code, 1117, and it unlatched with a <em> click</em>, revealing a lightly rusted 9mm handgun. </p>
<p>His last resort.</p>
<p>It was his dad’s, once upon a time. He wasn’t even sure why he kept it. He’d barely met the guy. His mom couldn’t bare to keep it, but she also couldn’t bare to throw it away, so she’d given it to Wooyoung as a keepsake. She made him promise to keep it locked in a safe, just in case. It was for protection, she said. </p>
<p>
  <em> Protection. Funny, mom. Wherever you are, If you’re watching this, I’m sorry. </em>
</p>
<p>It was preloaded with a magazine of bullets, but he should only need one. He positioned the gun at his temple with his trembling hand. He couldn’t even remember why he wanted to die at this point, anyway. He was fueled by frustration now, by the inability to take control of his own fate. His choice had been taken away—he couldn’t die, no matter how hard he tried. </p>
<p>The last thing he remembered was putting pressure on the trigger before, again, the world spiraled into black. </p>
<p>He let out a defeated yell as his eyes fluttered back open, cursing and flailing his arms like a fucking madman. His skull felt like it had been rammed with a sledgehammer—but it was, most importantly, completely in tact as if he hadn’t just blown a bullet straight through it. It should have vaporized half of his brain, but he was still alive. </p>
<p>
  <em> There was no way. There was no fucking way. </em>
</p>
<p>He stood up, bracing his fingers against his temples to counteract the harsh throbbing wreaking havoc on his skull. He peered down in frustrated disgust at the blood that seeped through the carpet, staining it a sickening shade of maroon. He made a fucking mess. It didn’t really matter, considering he was being evicted anyway, but it was certainly an eyesore. </p>
<p>His chest swelled with anger, tightening like a vice around his heart, his lungs, painting his vision red. </p>
<p>Rage surged through his body, controlling his limbs like a puppet. He delivered a harsh kick his nightstand, sending an empty glass cup flying against the wall, cracking and falling to the ground. He felt nothing but frustration, but resentment towards whatever god wouldn’t let him just <em> fucking die already </em> . He picked up the fallen glass and chucked it at the wall. It ricocheted off, shattering into pieces on impact. That felt <em> good</em>. If he couldn’t destroy himself, he’d destroy everything around him.</p>
<p>He beelined to the kitchen, tearing open his cabinets, looking for anything breakable. A bowl would do. He grabbed the edge, sending it crashing against the wall, reveling in the satisfaction of the <em> crack </em>as it hit<em>,</em> and the way it shattered to pieces before littering across the floor. He sent his dishes flying, plates, bowls, glasses, whatever he could get his hands on, all shattering into pieces. He was stepping over shards of glass, but he didn’t even care anymore. He only wanted to wreak havoc on the world like it wreaked on him. </p>
<p>He picked up a mason jar, twisting the heavy glass in his hand before winding his arm up like he was about to deliver the winning baseball pitch of his career, aiming at the dining room wall. He threw it with an overwhelming force, a demented scream ripping through his throat, channeling all his anger through his body. </p>
<p>It hit the wall, ricocheting off in what seemed like slow motion.</p>
<p>Wait, what the— </p>
<p>His eyes widened. Thick shards of glass hung in the air, frozen in place. Sparkling light glimmered off of the shards, prisming psychedelically against the walls. The world seemed to stop—the hum of his fridge, the flickering of his fluorescent kitchen light, the creaking of his heater in the corner of the room. Everything, frozen in time. Everything but him.</p>
<p>He stepped forward apprehensively, reaching out to touch one of the shards, which bounced around in the air, unbound by gravity. He reached out to it again, but the world resumed itself before he was able to grasp it fully in his palm. </p>
<p>The glass pieces fell from their positions in the air with an alarming force, clanging to the floor dramatically around him. Startled, he stumbled backwards, glass crunching beneath his feet.</p>
<p>His hands came up to his head, pressing against his cheeks in shock, feeling the warmth of his face. He prodded and stretched the skin, checking to see if he was still alive, if this was still reality. Unfortunately, he found the answer to be yes. </p>
<p>A glow blinded his peripheral, and he pulled his hand from his face to examine the symbol, which was glowing more brightly than before, a warm white light. His fingers traced lines across his palm, examining the outline of the mysterious symbol. It had to be a part of this all. It had to explain at least some of what was happening.</p>
<p>No, he was probably just losing his mind. </p>
<p>After a few moments of panicked pacing around the apartment, he realized what he needed to do.</p>
<p>He couldn’t stay here. For one, it looked like a murder scene. And for two, he was required to be out in the next—he glanced at his phone—five hours, now. </p>
<p>He thumbed through his contacts, which didn’t take long, finding his old best friend’s name at the very bottom. He hadn’t talked to him in, what was it now, four or five years? It was also late now, nearly 1 am. He wondered if he even had the same phone number anymore. </p>
<p>He didn’t really have a choice, though. He didn’t know who else to call. His thumb pressed the call icon, heart drumming violently in his chest as he listened to the steady <em> brrrring </em>from the other line<em>.  </em></p>
<p>A deep, rich voice answered. Deeper than he remembered. “Wooyoung?”</p>
<p>“Yeosang, thank god. I need your help. I really can’t explain over the phone. Can I come over?”</p>
<p>
  
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>tl;dr</p><p>wooyoung he jumps off the top of his 30 story apartment building, but wakes up to a mysterious man touching his chest and then disappearing. he goes back to his apartment, which he's being evicted from in 8 hours, and quickly figures out he can't die after a lot of trial and error. he also finds he has a mysterious glowing symbol on his hand. angry and frustrated at his life, he smashes a bunch of dishes in his kitchen, and ends up stopping time for a second. then he calls his childhood friend, yeosang, for help.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. memento vivere</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p>
<p>He pressed the call icon, heart drumming violently in his chest as he listened to the steady <em> brrring.  </em></p>
<p>A deep, rich voice answered. Deeper than he remembered. “Wooyoung?”</p>
<p>“Yeosang, thank god. I need your help. I really can’t explain over the phone. Can I come over?”</p>
<p>“Dude, it’s one in the fucking morning. Can it wait?”</p>
<p>Among all the other events of the day, this one felt almost as surreal—Yeosang talking to him as if Wooyoung hadn’t just randomly fallen off the face of the earth four years ago, never to be heard from again. But now, it felt like they’d never even stopped talking. </p>
<p>Wooyoung’s tone dropped, doing his best to convey the seriousness of the situation. If there was anything to be said about their relationship, it was that Yeosang had a notoriously hard time taking Wooyoung seriously. “No, it can’t wait. You’ll see what I mean when I get there. Please, Yeosang.”</p>
<p>“Jesus Christ, you go off and disappear for four years and now you’re calling me at 1am asking to come over?” <em> There it was. </em>“Well you know I’m gonna say yes.”</p>
<p>Wooyoung breathed a sigh of relief. “Yeosang, thank you. Thank you, seriously. I’ll be there as fast as I can.”</p>
<p>“Okay, okay. I’ll text you the address.”</p>
<p>“Okay, see you in a bit.”</p>
<p>He hung up, sliding his phone in his pocket before heading into his room. He made sure to step carefully around the now-dried crimson blood stain seeping through the carpet in a gruesomely large splatter. Gross.</p>
<p>He retrieved the largest duffle bag he owned from his closet and began stuffing it full of clothes haphazardly, grabbing handfuls of random clothing items that were strewn across the floor, not really sure what was dirty or clean. He hoped he’d at least grabbed enough underwear to last him a few days. </p>
<p>If he had a car, he would have used it to store some of his belongings for the time being while he figured out what he was going to do about his living situation, but he couldn’t afford that kind of luxury. Plus, he wasn’t exactly planning on needing more clothes than the ones he’d put on this morning. Whatever he couldn’t fit in his duffle would be inevitably donated by whoever cleaned out his apartment in five hours—bless their soul. </p>
<p>He had a thought that he should scrape together what last food was left in the place. His stomach growled anticipatorily at the thought. He scoured his pantry cupboards, not even bothering to check the fridge, which he knew was just a sad display of weeks-spoiled milk and some rotten bagged lettuce he bought but never actually ate. His only spoils were a sad bag of white rice, which would have been more of a burden to carry than to leave anyway. He wasn’t<em> that </em>desperate.  </p>
<p>He slung the bag of clothes over his shoulder and headed towards the door. He didn’t bother giving any sort of dramatic goodbye to the apartment as he left—his departure now would be as unceremonious as it was when he left for the rooftop just hours before. He’d already let go of just about everything in his life. Now was no different.</p>
<p>He walked all the way to Yeosang’s. His bank account was in the negatives, so he couldn’t exactly afford a taxi. It only ended up being about an hour walk from his apartment to Yeosang’s, which wasn’t too far, considering the circumstances. </p>
<p>The night was dark and cold as he prodded along the sidewalk. The bag ached on his shoulders, but these were his last worldly possessions—a pathetic duffel bag of mostly dirty clothes, his phone, and his wallet. If Yeosang hadn’t picked up the phone, he likely would have slept on the street that night. He owed him the world. </p>
<p>The symbol on his hand pulsed dimly as he walked, awakening the warm white glow on his skin once again. This time, it glowed in pieces, around the edge, like the hands of a clock indicating the time, or a compass guiding him north. He studied his palm carefully, intrigued but confused by the way the glow moved around the symbol. </p>
<p>He glanced at his phone and back up at the building addresses. A sigh of relief puffed from his lips as he approached Yeosang’s apartment building. From the outside, he could already tell it was leagues nicer than his. That wasn’t exactly saying much, though. </p>
<p>The door unlatched and swung open. Yeosang stood inside. He looked the same as Wooyoung remembered: bleached blonde hair, longer in the back than in the front, that fell around his eyes, framing his face. He was dressed in a slightly oversized black hoodie, sleeves pushed up nearly past his fingertips, and grey sweatpants.</p>
<p>“Uh, hey,” Yeosang said hesitantly as he gestured to him to step inside. </p>
<p>Wooyoung followed the invitation, stepping in and slipping his shoes off beside the door. “I’m freaking the fuck out.”</p>
<p>Yeosang’s face dropped into a cynical frown. “Jeez, man. Not even a ‘How are you’?” </p>
<p>“Oh, right. Uh, how are you?”</p>
<p>“Well, now it just feels forced.”</p>
<p>Wooyoung took a brief glance around Yeosang’s apartment. It was a refreshing glimpse of how normal, well-adjusted people lived. It was nicely decorated, impeccably tidy. He could tell Yeosang made a decent living just from the way he furnished his apartment, which was small but cozy. It was kind of rude to just burst into his place with little warning after four years, not even bothering to ask about Yeosang’s life. </p>
<p>He had more important matters currently, like the fact that he had all but confirmed it was physically impossible for him to die, and that he was pretty sure he <em>froze time </em>for a few minutes. Oh, and his glowing hand symbol. </p>
<p>Yeosang gestured to the couch, and Wooyoung followed, sinking into the cushions. Yeosang took a seat across from him in a reclining chair. He must have been really doing well to have more than one piece of furniture in his living room. Or maybe Wooyoung’s standards were just really, really low.</p>
<p>Wooyoung took a deep breath, bracing himself for the difficult conversation he was about to have. Was there any way to explain this that didn’t sound like Wooyoung had gone off the deep end? Probably not.</p>
<p>“Okay, you’re gonna think I’m absolutely crazy, but hear me out, okay?”</p>
<p>“Okay…” Yeosang replied, drawing out the last syllable apprehensively.</p>
<p>Wooyoung threaded his fingers together in his lap. “I think—I think I’m immortal.”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry, you think you’re <em> what </em>?”</p>
<p>“I’m immortal. Like, I can’t die.”</p>
<p>“And how the hell would you know that?”</p>
<p>
  <em> Shit. Good point.  </em>
</p>
<p>He was going to have to come clean about that at some point.</p>
<p>“It’s kind of a long story. I, uh—well, I’ve been trying.”</p>
<p>Yeosang’s eyebrows furrowed. “Trying to… die?”</p>
<p>“Yeah. I jumped off my apartment building like, hours ago. But look, that’s not the important part—”</p>
<p>Yeosang’s voice interjected, cutting off his train of thought. “You jumped off your—wait, hold on—Wooyoung, what the hell. You’re telling me you’re suicidal <em> and </em> immortal? Can we backtrack a little, please?”</p>
<p>Wooyoung brought a hand up to palm the back of his neck nervously. He wasn’t comfortable talking about this kind of thing with Yeosang. Despite being best friends for years, they didn’t exactly discuss their emotions. In fact, they steered far, far away from them whenever possible. </p>
<p>“Well, uh… I jumped off my apartment building. It’s 30 stories. I’m telling you, no one can survive that. Except I woke up, and there was a guy there. He was weirdly pretty, like I thought he might be an angel maybe. I don’t know. Anyway, he was knelt over me, he had his hand on my chest, and then he disappeared.”</p>
<p>Yeosang connected two fingers to his temple, rubbing pressure in circles around it with a slow shake of his head. “Wooyoung, it is way too late for this. You’re not making any sense right now.”</p>
<p>“No, wait—that’s not the end of it. I was covered in my own blood from the fall, but I wasn’t bleeding anywhere. So I went back to my apartment and uh… well, I took pills. A ton of them, and then I drank almost half a bottle of vodka. I passed out, and when I woke up, it was like it never happened. That definitely should have killed me. And then I did it again, same thing. Passed out, woke up like it never happened, but my vodka bottle was empty and so were my pill bottles. I’m not imagining this.”</p>
<p>Wooyoung paused, waiting for Yeosang’s response, but he was dead silent. Wooyoung could see the gears turning in Yeosang’s head. His index finger continued to draw slow circles around his temple. He probably had half a mind to call the authorities right now and have Wooyoung shipped off to a mental institution at this point. </p>
<p>“It gets worse, dude,” Wooyoung continued, ignoring Yeosang’s expression. “I slit my own wrists, and they just<em> healed </em>. On their own.”</p>
<p>Yeosang sat up slightly in his chair. “You <em> slit your wrists </em>?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, but man, look.” Wooyoung pushed up the sleeves of his hoodie, revealing clean, unblemished skin. “See? There’s not even a scar or anything.”</p>
<p>Yeosang’s expression went serious, his lips pressing together soberly. “Can I ask you something? Seriously?”</p>
<p>Wooyoung nodded softly. “Yeah, of course. Anything.”</p>
<p>“Are you… on something?”</p>
<p>“<em>On </em>something? Like drugs? No, seriously, I can prove it to you. Just promise you won’t freak out.”</p>
<p>“Wooyoung—”</p>
<p>Wooyoung pushed himself up from the couch with his palms, heading to the kitchen to rummage through Yeosang’s drawers. “Just trust me.”</p>
<p>“Wooyoung, what are you—seriously dude, just be straight with me. I can see you’re not doing well. Do you need me to help you find like, a professional, or—holy shit, what are you doing with that?”</p>
<p>Wooyoung held a knife in his palm, fingers gripped tightly around the handle. It glimmered sinisterly, contrasting against the dim, cozy lights illuminating Yeosang’s living room.  </p>
<p>“Wooyoung, <em> holy shit </em>, if you try to fucking kill yourself in my living room I swear to god—”</p>
<p>“Relax. Just watch.”</p>
<p>He positioned himself over the open kitchen trash can, making sure he was still in Yeosang’s sight. He pulled his hoodie over his head, revealing his bare chest underneath. If he was going to do this, he wasn’t going to risk ruining his perfectly good clothes this time.</p>
<p>“Wooyoung, seriously, I’m gonna call 91—”</p>
<p>Wooyoung’s eyes went dead serious. “Yeosang. We’ve been friends for how long?” <em> Disregarding the time Wooyoung spent ghosting him. </em>“Please. Trust me on this.”</p>
<p>Without giving Yeosang any more room to protest, he plunged the knife into his chest. He aimed close enough to the heart to prove it was fatal, but just slightly off so as not to make too much of a mess on Yeosang’s kitchen tile—he knew how much arteries could spurt blood if he wasn’t careful. </p>
<p>He keeled over in pain, sliding the knife out just as quickly as he’d sunk it in. He underestimated how much it would hurt. He felt as though he were dying, like someone took a wood chipper to his insides. His knees hit the cold kitchen tile, and he clutched his chest in pain, releasing an anguished yell. </p>
<p>“Wooyoung, what the fuck! I’m calling 911, oh my god, <em> fuck</em>.” Yeosang scrambled to his feet, lunging forward towards his phone on the coffee table.</p>
<p>“Wait,” Wooyoung choked. “Just watch.” </p>
<p>He removed his blood-coated hand from the punctured area. He could feel the cut slowly begin to heal, cauterizing itself as fresh skin crept over the open wound. He raised his gaze to Yeosang’s weakly, following Yeosang’s eyes as they widened, his skin going pale. “See?”</p>
<p>Yeosang’s jaw would have been on the floor if it wasn’t attached to his face. His phone slipped from his hand, clattering to the carpet. “Oh… my… god.” </p>
<p>A smug, <em> I-told-you-so </em> smile twitched up on Wooyoung’s lips beneath his pained wince. “Believe me now?”</p>
<p>“Yes, but holy shit, Wooyoung, did you have to stab yourself in the heart in my kitchen to prove that to me?”</p>
<p>Wooyoung glanced down at the tile, noting a few small puddles of blood from droplets that had missed their planned trajectory to the trash can. “Yeah, sorry. I’ll clean that up later. I just wanted to show you it’s not just my wounds that can heal. I <em> can’t die </em>. No matter what I do.” </p>
<p>“H-how?” Yeosang stammered. His voice was an octave higher than usual, cracking slightly as he choked out the words. “I mean, I don’t want you to die, but it’s a little unsettling that you’re just suddenly immortal.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, I have no clue. That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out.”</p>
<p>“You… you think that man you saw had something to do with it then?”</p>
<p>“I’m not sure. I think so. But also,” Wooyoung held his right palm up in front of Yeosang, showing him the strange symbol “this.”</p>
<p>“What am I supposed to be looking at, exactly?”</p>
<p>“The symbol. It’s a little faint, but sometimes, it glows—”</p>
<p>“No, like, what am I looking at? There’s nothing there.”</p>
<p>Wooyoung flipped his hand around to check his palm. Surely, there it was, the alien-like symbol, etched over his skin like a scar-colored tattoo. It was clear as day. </p>
<p>“You’re telling me you don’t see this?” he asked, flipping his palm back to face Yeosang.</p>
<p>“I don’t know what I’m supposed to be looking for, but it just looks like your hand.”</p>
<p><em> Shit. </em> He was the only one who could see it? That didn’t make figuring out what it was any easier.</p>
<p>“Ugh, okay. Do you have a piece of paper, then?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, give me a minute.” Yeosang left the room, slipping through a door that Wooyoung could only assume was his bedroom, and returning with a small notepad and a pencil. “Here.”</p>
<p>“Perfect.” Wooyoung took the notebook from Yeosang, scrawling his best interpretation of it on the paper. It looked like it was scribbled by a third grader, but he was sure Yeosang got the picture. </p>
<p>Yeosang hummed in concentration as he studied Wooyoung’s poor rendition of the symbol. After a minute or so, he raised his eyes to Wooyoung’s. “I’m no expert, and your drawing kinda sucks, but that looks like some sort of sigil.”</p>
<p>“Like... witchcraft?” </p>
<p>Yeosang’s hand came up to his chin in thought, rubbing his index finger over his skin pensively. “More like alchemy, I think. You said it ...glows?”</p>
<p>Wooyoung nodded. “Yeah, sometimes stronger than other times, and sometimes only a part of it glows, like a compass. It happened a bit on the way here, actually. I haven’t figured out why, though. Wait, I forgot to tell you, the even weirder thing—”</p>
<p>“Oh god, there’s more?”</p>
<p>“I think I stopped time.”</p>
<p>“Dear god. I’m gonna need a drink,” Yeosang grumbled under his breath.</p>
<p>Wooyoung proceeded to explain the scenario as Yeosang poured himself a glass of wine—of<em> course</em> he drank wine—and listened intently, doing his best not to cut in with cynical remarks. He told him about the way the glass hung in the air, the way he was able to manipulate it, the way the world resumed around him as though nothing had happened, and how the sigil on his palm glowed brightly afterwards. </p>
<p>They talked a bit more, theorizing blindly about what might have caused this, but coming up with no real leads. Yeosang spent a while browsing through sigils on a Google search, procuring some decently similar symbols, but nothing that was an exact match.</p>
<p>Eventually, Yeosang noticed the time—3am now—and decided he ought to go to bed. He let Wooyoung borrow a pair of clean pajamas, and offered for him to sleep on his couch for the night, which he accepted eagerly. </p>
<p>Wooyoung’s exhaustion didn’t quite hit him until he actually had the chance to lay down. He’d been through hell and back today, quite literally, and he’d wreaked absolute havoc on his body more times than he could count. He’d fallen from a 30 story building, overdosed twice, bled out in the kitchen and shot himself in the head. Oh, and taken a knife to the heart. It was probably a matter of time before his body would have probably shut down on its own. He was glad he found a comfortable place to pass out, at least.</p>
<p>Somehow, Yeosang’s couch was more comfortable than the shitty mattress he slept on back at his apartment—well, former apartment, now. At some point he drifted to sleep, delighting in the comforting feeling of the world slowly fading to black. </p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>“Welcome back to the world of the living. You must have been tired as hell. If I didn’t know you were immortal, I’d have been worried you died,” Yeosang stood above him, staring down at Wooyoung with a smug smirk. “You slept for 15 hours.”</p>
<p>
  <em> 15 hours? Wait, that meant it was 8pm. Shit. </em>
</p>
<p>Wooyoung sprung off the couch, reaching over to the coffee table to check his phone, confirming the time. “Shit dude, why’d you let me sleep til 8?”</p>
<p>Yeosang shrugged. “You seemed like you needed it.” He probably did. “But look, I’m glad you’re awake. I’ve been thinking. About your symbol.”</p>
<p>“Okay, go for it,” he replied, voice rough and gravely from just waking up. He rubbed his eyes drowsily with the back of his hands. </p>
<p>Yeosang took a seat off the edge of the coffee table, facing Wooyoung. “So, you said it was like a compass, right?”</p>
<p>Wooyoung nodded. “Yeah, sometimes just a small piece glows, and moves around on the axis. It reminded me of a needle on a compass.”</p>
<p>“I was thinking. What if it <em> is </em>a compass?”</p>
<p>“You think it’s trying to lead me somewhere?” Wooyoung asked, glancing down at his hand. He supposed it wasn’t impossible.</p>
<p>“Maybe. I don’t know. We don’t really have much to go on here. It’s your only lead. I think you should follow it.”</p>
<p>“And what if it doesn’t lead me anywhere? And I just end up walking in circles or something?”</p>
<p>“Do you have another option?”</p>
<p>Yeosang was right, as usual. Even if this lead turned out to be a dead end, it was better than just sitting around doing nothing. </p>
<p>“Well, shit then, if I’m gonna investigate this I need to get going like, now.” Wooyoung stood up, making a beeline for his duffel bag. </p>
<p>“Wait, you’re going out now? At night?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, what? It’s not like I’m in danger if someone tries to murder me, or something.”</p>
<p>Yeosang chuckled. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”</p>
<p>He threw on the first set of clothes he found, another hoodie and a pair of jeans that was just slightly too small for him. He grabbed the door handle, still slipping his shoes on, then glanced back over his shoulder. “I’ll let you know if I find anything. I can crash here again tonight, right?”</p>
<p>“Of course.”</p>
<p>Wooyoung smiled. “Okay, see ya.”</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>Wooyoung underestimated just how cold it would be outside. He threw his hood over his head to stop the wind from rustling his hair. He glanced at his palm, which glowed dimly. It was a lot easier to make out the direction the light was pointing him in the dark. Yeosang’s theory of the sigil acting as a compass made more and more sense as he walked, following it down streets upon streets. He must have walked for hours. As he followed its lead, pulling him in what felt like endless circles leading nowhere, the dim light swelled gradually brighter. Did that mean it was working? </p>
<p>It wasn’t the most efficient method of travel, as it would sometimes guide Wooyoung straight into the wall of a building or down a dead-end alleyway, like the world’s worst GPS. </p>
<p>He seemed to be getting close to something. To what, he wasn’t sure. He couldn't even be sure it would lead him to anything at all. He was just following its lead, a puppet of its mysterious power. </p>
<p>He lifted his palm again. The sigil illuminated brightly, steering him straight forward to the door of a building. Was this it? </p>
<p>The sign above read <em> “The Black Cat Bar” </em>in unsteady neon letters which flickered suspiciously.</p>
<p>A bar? Really? Was this really the place? Maybe this was a hideout for some secret society or something? A secret society of… weird, drunk alchemists? </p>
<p>It was worth checking out, at least. He pushed his way through the door, immediately greeted with what was undeniably the most trashy bar he’d ever been in. It reeked of sweat and shitty alcohol, and the crowd was unsavory, at best. He checked the sigil, which glowed brightly under the dark bar lighting, illuminated from all sides now. He could only guess that meant this was the place. </p>
<p>Wooyoung’s eyes scanned around the place, searching for any sign that might lend him answers.</p>
<p>That’s when Wooyoung saw him, seated at the bar, drink in one hand, the other slung drunkenly around the waist of a girl—one far too pretty to be in a bar like this.</p>
<p><em> Him</em>. The guy from the alley. The one who’d told him not to come looking for him. </p>
<p>
  <em> Shit. </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. persona non grata</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Wooyoung’s eyes scanned around the place, searching for any sign that might lend him answers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That’s when Wooyoung saw </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>, seated at the bar, drink in one hand, the other slung drunkenly around the waist of a girl—one far too pretty to be in a bar like this.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Him</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The guy from the alley. The one who’d told him not to come looking for him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Shit. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wooyoung glanced once more at the sigil on his hand, then back up to the man before heading towards the bar, weaving through a maze of bar tables and through a crowd of drunken bargoers hazardously tossing darts at the wall.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As he approached, he could make out the deep, smooth tone of the man's voice as he leaned in to the woman he was talking to, raised just slightly too loud. “Yeah, yeah, just head outside. I’ll be out in a minute baby.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yep, that was the same guy alright. He'd only heard him speak briefly in the alleyway, and yet he could identify that voice from a mile away. He could also tell from his unique hair, marked by a curious blonde streak through the front, that was styled back out of his face neatly. If there was anything that could be said about him, it was that his appearance was unforgettable.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The woman headed towards the door, and Wooyoung took the opportunity to place his hand on the man’s shoulder, who turned around abruptly at the touch. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man’s eyes flickered up and down Wooyoung’s frame. His tongue clicked against his teeth. “You look familiar. Have we fucked before? Look, sweetheart, you’re cute and all, but I have one rule. I don’t go back for seconds.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wooyoung gritted his teeth. “You seriously don’t remember me?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re gonna have to be more specific.” He traced a drunken finger over Wooyoung’s jaw, who slapped it away bitterly. “I fuck </span>
  <em>
    <span>a lot</span>
  </em>
  <span> of cute guys.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wooyoung’s hands formed involuntary fists of frustration. His fingernails made tiny crescents in his palm, which glowed lightly with the mark of the sigil. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Who did this guy think he was, anyway? Was he </span>
  <em>
    <span>hitting</span>
  </em>
  <span> on him?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t flatter yourself,” Wooyoung hissed under his breath. “We didn’t—no, look, from the alley.” He pushed up the sleeve of his hoodie, displaying his palm at the man’s face. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>This </span>
  </em>
  <span>look familiar to you?”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man’s eyes widened, face forming a look of dreadful realization. “Oh, shit.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wooyoung pushed his hand further into the man’s face. “So what the hell is this, huh? What the hell did you do to me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Jesus, human. Keep your goddamn voice down. No need to alert the whole place.” He rolled his eyes dramatically, then slapped his hand around the small of Wooyoung’s wrist, curling his fingers around it tightly. “Come with me.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man’s arm tugged on Wooyoung’s wrist, sending his body lurching forward with alarming force.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, what the—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Shhhhh, </span>
  </em>
  <span>holy shit. Do you ever shut up?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As the man dragged him from the bar, tripping over his own feet, he noticed the smell that wafted off of him. He reeked of cheap booze and… was that cigarette smoke? Maybe it was just his daze from being woken from the dead, but this guy had seemed a lot cooler in the alley. He was kind of a mess now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wooyoung was impressed, though. For as tipsy as he was physically, he had a decent command of his words—he probably wouldn’t have even noticed the man’s drunkenness if not for that sickening liquor smell wafting from his clothes, and the way he swayed slightly while he walked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The cold air nipped at Wooyoung’s cheeks as the man guided him out the side door, dumping them out into what seemed like an alley, lit dimly by the flickering glow of street lamps. Puddles of unidentified liquid sloshed under his shoes, although it hadn’t been raining, and Wooyoung was sure he heard the sound of rats scuttering around his legs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The mark on your hand.” He took Wooyoung’s hand in both his, scrutinizing the symbol. “What does it do?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>What does it do?</span>
  </em>
  <span> How the hell should </span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>know?” Wooyoung barked. “You’re the one who gave it to me!” Wooyoung glanced down at the man’s hands, still holding his palm steady. Wait, the symbol— “You have one too! How do you not know what it does?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man held his palm up to his face, then to Wooyoung. “Oh, this? Yeah, it appeared on me after I saved you in that alleyway. I couldn’t really figure out what it did except glow, so I kinda gave up.” Who the hell was this guy? And why was he being so casual about all of this?  “So, what does it do?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wooyoung snatched his hand away. “I have no clue. I followed the glow and it brought me to you. Oh, and by the way, whatever it does, I can’t die.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t feel like going over this again, after his charade with Yeosang. “I mean, my body won’t die. Whatever I do—cutting, stabbing, overdosing, shooting myself—it just heals right away. Like, I think this thing makes me immortal.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man’s hand came up to stroke his chin pensively. “Well, that’s not good.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Really? That’s all you had to say? No shit, Sherlock.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Frustration swelled in Wooyoung’s chest. He came all this way for </span>
  <em>
    <span>this? </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"How can you be so calm about this? And… and you said you saved me. Why? </span>
  <em>
    <span>How</span>
  </em>
  <span>?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man gave a noncommittal shrug. “I was bored. And, to be honest, it kinda pisses me off when humans try to die. It's selfish, really. Give death a bit more credit than that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you knew my life, you wouldn’t say that,” Wooyoung replied. Who was this man to say what his life was like?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, immortal, huh? Welcome to the club.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What the hell did you do to me?” Wooyoung hissed, gritting his teeth. “And who are you anyway? </span>
  <em>
    <span>What</span>
  </em>
  <span> are you?” His eyes widened as the gears turned in his head. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>A vampire?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>San’s serious expression broke into a sputtering chuckle, then bursting out, sending a cacophony of laughter echoing off the alley walls. The man keeled over his stomach, one hand on the wall for balance. Wooyoung took that as a resounding </span>
  <em>
    <span>no</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “A vampire? Oh my god, that’s the funniest thing I’ve heard all century.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wooyoung’s eyes narrowed impatiently. “So, what then?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your language doesn’t exactly… describe what I am,” he paused, eyes wandering as he searched for the right words. “I suppose I’ve never had to explain this to a human before, huh?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Try your best,” Wooyoung cut in dryly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m… hmm, how do I put this…. I’m an... immortal being, and I have… time control… uh, powers, you could say.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, like that’s more believable than ‘vampire’.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So that sigil on your hand,” the man said, changing the subject abruptly. “You said it led you to me? How?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It glowed like a compass, and I just followed it. It wasn’t easy, but I—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man’s teeth gritted together after a moment, his eyes displaying a look of realization. “Shit. That’s not good at all,” he hissed under his breath, more to himself than to Wooyoung. His hand clamped back around Wooyoung’s wrist. “You’re not going anywhere until we figure this out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you mean?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean you’re coming with me. And I’m not letting you out of my sight.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Hell no, I’m not going anywhere with you,” Wooyoung protested, making an attempt to pull away from his grip, but the man’s fingers tightened threateningly. Wooyoung yanked again, as hard as he could muster, feeling the man’s nails dig into his skin as he tore away, leaving behind thick red marks where he was scratched.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Cute that you think you have a choice.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wooyoung blinked, and the man was flush behind him, holding him tight with an arm viced around his shoulder. A sharp blade kissed at the skin of his neck. How the fuck did he—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He could feel the man’s hot breath tickling his ear. His voice came out dangerously deep again. “You might not be able to die, but I can inflict a lot of pain. Trust me. Now what do you say you come home with me, huh, human?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, okay, jesus. Relax,” Wooyoung surrendered. He’d had enough blades on his skin in the last 24 hours to reach his pain quota for the rest of his life. “I’ll come with you. Just chill, okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He felt the man’s arm soften, dropping from their tight clutch around his neck. Wooyoung stumbled forward out of his release. The man brushed his clothes off, closing his pocket knife with a flick of his wrist. Where did he get that thing, anyway? And how did he teleport around him so quickly? Was that one of the powers he was talking about?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good. So, as I was saying, you’re coming with me. Right now. ” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He swiveled on his heels, taking a few wobbly steps away from Wooyoung, towards where the alley met the street.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait—but I have so many more questions. Like how you brought me to life, or why I’m immortal now, or why I stopped time in my apartment—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ugh, just shut up,” the man interrupted. Wooyoung recognized the drunken drawl in his voice again, reminding him that the man was, in fact, pretty wasted, despite his impressive ability to hide it. “They can wait ‘til tomorrow. I’m fucking exhausated from your…” he gave a vague wiggle of his fingers in Wooyoung’s direction. “... incessance. Humans can’t let anything just fucking</span>
  <em>
    <span> be</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just one more before we go.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” The man grunted disapprovingly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your name.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right, that. I have many. But you can call me San.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>San</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Simple. Easy enough to remember.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>San didn’t even bother asking for Wooyoung’s in return, just simply turned his head back over his shoulder, confidently walking in some sort of direction despite the sway in his step. They walked silently, though it wasn’t far. Wooyoung had tried to speak, tried to throw in another question or two while San was still lucid, but the man simply shushed him until he gave up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>San’s apartment complex reminded him a bit of his own, though a bit less threatening to walk in at night. For an immortal being, he kind of lived in a shit-hole. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>San somehow managed to find his way up the stairs and to his unit, which he barged into like he was breaking into the place. Wooyoung barely got a word out before San was already collapsing on the couch in the middle of the living room, face down like he’d just died. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Shit.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Did he just pass out on the couch?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What the hell was Wooyoung supposed to do? He was in a strangers apartment. He fumbled around until he located the bedroom. He guessed he’d just sleep there for the night. After all, he wasn’t about to sleep on the floor just to avoid the awkwardness of sleeping in a stranger's bed without permission. He’d pretty much just been kidnapped, though. He supposed he could just walk out the door now, considering the guy holding him hostage was blacked out on the couch, but he didn’t exactly feel like finding his way back to Yeosang’s, and he was tired as hell.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He decided to take San’s bed without giving it another thought. It was the least he deserved.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He tossed and turned for longer than he could count, the unanswered questions swirling in his head and holding him hostage. It was a while before he was able to lull himself to sleep, accepting the black that formed behind his lids as easily as he’d been ready to accept death.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Wooyoung’s eyes shuttered open to the all-too-familiar sight of San’s face positioned over his. This time, though, his eyebrows were pinched together in confusion. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait—who are you? Oh god, don’t tell me we fucked. Look, I’m not gonna make you breakfast or anything, so you should probably just—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wooyoung’s teeth gritted together, hands coming up to rub his temples. This guy was seriously giving him a migraine. What, was he suffering from amnesia or something? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he cursed under his breath.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>San had apparently no recollection of meeting him at the bar, despite seeming entirely lucid, save for his unstable balance and the way he practically blacked out as soon as he walked through the door. This guy was seriously good at faking sobriety. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wooyoung re-explained himself again to San, going through every painful detail again. It seemed to slowly come back to San as he explained it all—all Wooyoung knew up to that point, which, admittedly, wasn’t much.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have so many more questions for you. You promised me answers as long as I came back with you, which I did. I held up my end. Now your turn.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can it wait? We should get some food first. I’m fucking starving,” San moaned, palming his hand in pathetic circles over his stomach. “This human body is annoying as hell.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wait,</span>
  <em>
    <span> human </span>
  </em>
  <span>body? Did he have some sort of other form? Wooyoung didn’t have much time to dwell on that, though. His stomach proclaimed it’s hunger loudly, sending a grumbling whine into the air. When was the last time he had eaten?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t you have something here? I don’t have any money to be eating out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Me neither,” San replied with a mischievous wink.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then how do you—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s a simple concept called ‘just not paying’. I’m sure your simple brain can comprehend that, can’t it?” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Wow</span>
  </em>
  <span>. This guy was a serious asshole. Everything he said seemed to be looking down at Wooyoung like he was inherently lesser.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You just… steal all your food?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not from your realm. I have no moral obligations towards humans. And frankly, neither do you anymore. Human’s moral codes are fallible, anyway. Easy to manipulate.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I suppose I’m starving too. I haven’t eaten in—” he counted the days in his hands. Oh god, had it been that long? “—three days.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Exactly. So we should go.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wooyoung was exhausted. He wanted to collapse back in bed immediately, though a meal at a diner did sound incredible. His stomach growled voraciously now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Seriously, don’t you have anything here?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wooyoung made his way to San’s fridge, only to be met with the heavy burden of disappointment. A sad bottle of hot sauce was the only thing Wooyoung would consider edible inside, other than a large pack of cheap beer pushed all the way to the back that Wooyoung would sooner starve than waste calories on.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” San asked, and the way his eyebrows pinched together looked almost offended by Wooyoung’s reaction. “Why get groceries when I can just eat out all the time?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Now that he was acutely aware of his growling stomach and the hungry void that was forming inside his core, Wooyoung felt lightheaded. “Fine, whatever. We can go. But as long as you promise to answer the rest of my questions there.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah, sure, whatever,” San agreed begrudgingly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They left his apartment building and set down the street, following San’s lead. Wooyoung had no choice but to keep on the clothes that he’d worn the night before—he supposed he could have asked to borrow some of San’s clothes, as they were roughly the same size, but that felt entirely off limits. Besides, San seemed to dislike him in every sense. It wasn’t like Wooyoung could just ask nicely. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>San walked almost disturbingly fast now in front of Wooyoung, who had to practically break into a jog to keep up with him. It was like he had no regard for his own energy preservation. That was probably an immortal thing. Or maybe it just seemed fast now compared to how slowly he’d stumbled home last night with Wooyoung in tow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So… we’re walking the whole way?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean, I suppose we could have driven, but it’s just down the street—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You just… walk places?” Wooyoung asked, confusion seeping between his words.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, yeah. With my own two feet,” San responded dryly. “Why?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I guess I thought you could teleport. Aren’t you some sort of immortal being? With powers, and stuff? Last night, you teleported behind me, and—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>San chuckled. “Oh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>? I didn’t teleport. I have time powers, I’m not a magician.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s the difference?” Wooyoung sassed under his breath. “But… last night. How then? And in the alley, too. Both times I blinked, and you were gone.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I walked. You just didn’t know because you were frozen.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Frozen? Like...  in time? That must be what I did to the glass at my apartment.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Seems like it,” San said dismissively, clearly uninterested in Wooyoung’s revelation. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>San stopped in his tracks abruptly, sending Wooyoung to a screeching halt behind him, bumping against him from behind. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He glanced up at the sign of the building: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Aurora Diner</span>
  </em>
  <span>. San slipped through the doors without a word, and Wooyoung followed San as he made a beeline for a table, not even bothering to wait for a host to seat them. Like he said, he really seemed to have no interest in following human rules. Wooyoung slid into the plush booth seat across from him, and San began thumbing through the menu, an awkward silence nestling between them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Wooyoung had a one track mind for answers now. He had too many unsolved questions from the night before—it seemed as though for every question he asked San, he was gifted countless more in return. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So,” Wooyoung started, leaning his elbows against the table, fingers threading together carefully. “You’re gonna tell me everything.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. aut neca aut necare</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So,” Wooyoung started, leaning his elbows against the table, fingers threading together carefully. “You’re gonna tell me everything.”</p>
<p>San continued to thumb through the menu, not even giving Wooyoung the courtesy to meet his eyes as he spoke. “Fine, what do you want to know, human?”</p>
<p>Wooyoung clicked his tongue against his teeth. “Well, for starters, you can stop calling me <em> human. </em>I have a name.”</p>
<p>“Do you think I care what it is?”</p>
<p>“Wooyoung. It’s Wooyoung.”</p>
<p>“Okay, <em> human </em>,” he repeated. Jesus, this guy was a massive dick. Wooyoung gritted his teeth, doing his best to suppress an eye roll and a noise of annoyance. He wouldn’t give San the satisfaction. “Go ahead then. Ask your questions.”</p>
<p>“Okay, for one, how did you save me? And why? I still don’t understand...”</p>
<p> San gave a dismissive shrug. “Why? Because humans piss me off.”</p>
<p>“I don’t think I’m following. You saved my life… because I pissed you off?” </p>
<p>“You think you can just take death for granted. Take the easy way out. I’m cursed to be immortal, and you’re jumping off a building like death means nothing to you. It pissed me off.” San snapped his menu closed with a harsh clap. “Plus, your realm is boring as all hell. I saw you jump, and I figured I’d try a few of my powers out. Turns out, they don’t work like I thought they would on a human. Clearly.”</p>
<p>So, San saved his life because he was jealous that Wooyoung could die, and he couldn’t? That was the pettiest thing Wooyoung had ever heard. </p>
<p>“So you turned me immortal? Out of... spite?”</p>
<p>“<em> I </em>didn’t do anything. Not purposefully, at least. All I did was turn your body back in time a few seconds, to the state you were in before you died. Tried to, at least.”</p>
<p>“You can do that?”</p>
<p>“I guess so. I was testing out the limits of my power. I can turn time backwards, forwards, and I can freeze it, but only for a few seconds at a time. I wanted to see if I could channel that energy into one object. Or…” he gestured vaguely at Wooyoung’s body. “...thing.”</p>
<p>
  <em> Thing.  </em>
</p>
<p>Wooyoung already knew San didn’t think highly of “humans”, but his choice of vocabulary just felt downright degrading. </p>
<p>The waitress interrupted their conversation briefly to take their orders. As he ordered, Wooyoung felt like he was on the most awkward first date of his life. As the waitress walked away, he realized he’d completely forgotten about the fact that he told Yeosang he’d be back at his place. And that all his clothes were there. It didn’t seem like San would let him go back, though. At least not alone.</p>
<p>He pulled out his phone, pulling up his messages with Yeosang, which was expectedly empty. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>[ wooyoung ]</b>
</p>
<p>       hey, sorry I didn’t come back last night. I found the guy from the alley. I’ll tell you about it later. probably won’t be coming back for a while </p>
<p>
  <b>[ yeosang ]</b>
</p>
<p>       okay. tbh I wasn’t that worried. I mean, you’re immortal so I wasn’t really worried about you dying or anything. </p>
<p>
  <em> Thanks, Yeosang. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>[ wooyoung ] </b>
</p>
<p>       might need to come get my clothes at some point. thanks for letting me stay over the other night, btw. I owe you. <br/>       gotta go, talk to you when i can </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He set down his phone just in time to see their food coming out. Drool pooled at the corners of Wooyoung’s mouth as he took in the sight of<em> real food. </em>   He hadn’t eaten in three days, but it had been <em> weeks </em> since he’d had more than ten cent packs of ramen for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. </p>
<p>Although he was hungry, he couldn’t help but be distracted watching in awe as San inhaled his plate of food like he’d never had it before in his life. Wooyoung couldn’t quite place it, but something about watching an immortal, powerful being eat a plate of scrambled eggs was a bit unsettling. Wooyoung was starving, but he was more preoccupied by his racing thoughts than his growling stomach. He picked absently at his food, taking a bite here and there. It was probably best he savored it, anyway rather than inhaling it pathetically like San had.</p>
<p>Wooyoung wasn’t sure where to go from here. He had so many questions, and yet he couldn’t seem to form any of them into a coherent form. “So… you’re immortal too then? Like me?”</p>
<p>It was a dumb question. Wooyoung already knew the answer, but he was searching for <em> more. </em> Anything. San didn’t exactly give him much to go off last night.</p>
<p>“Unfortunately,” San grumbled dryly through bites of his food. </p>
<p>“So, if you’re immortal, and you have powers to control time, then… what are you? Like, a god?”</p>
<p>“God? I wouldn’t go quite that far,” San scoffed. “Humans might call us gods, but we’re really very similar to you, just a lot less fallible.” He paused, eyes wandering as he searched for words. “Humans were a… prototype, so to speak.”</p>
<p>“A prototype? Like… something made us?”</p>
<p>“Something like that. I know humans can be touchy on subjects of religion, but I'll put it this way: whatever God you worship here, it doesn't matter. Your real God abandoned you a long time ago.”</p>
<p>Wooyoung wasn’t exactly sure what to make of what San is saying—he was already starting to regret asking questions in the first place with the way San’s answers had his brain spinning in circles. Much like last night, every question San answered only opened up a thousand more, all of which were more convoluted than the last.</p>
<p>He took a big bite of a sausage on his plate. “So what are you doing here then? Why aren’t you… wherever you came from?”</p>
<p>A pained expression flashed on San’s face for a fleeting moment. “I was, uh… banished.”</p>
<p>“For what?”</p>
<p>San hesitated, visibly suppressing a look of discomfort. “For a crime I didn’t commit. That part isn’t important right now. I’m more concerned with that sigil on your palm.”</p>
<p>“So you don’t know what it is either?”</p>
<p>“No. My best guess is that when I channeled my powers into you to reverse the time on your body, I accidentally channeled a bit too much. As in, I transferred some of them to you. Which is probably why you were able to stop time. And why you can’t die. That’s all I have to go off of.”</p>
<p>Wooyoung opened his mouth to speak, but San continued as he scraped the fork across his empty plate.</p>
<p>“But that’s not what concerns me.” He lifted his palm to Wooyoung, revealing the glowing sigil, same as his own. His eyes darkened dreadfully. “What concerns me is that you were able to track me down with it. And if you can track me with it, so can they.”</p>
<p>
  <em> Well, that was ominous. </em>
</p>
<p>“T-they?” Wooyoung stuttered.</p>
<p>“I’m being tracked. By some of my own. When I was banished here, they sealed off my powers. I’ve been here for over a century now, and I’ve only been able to crack one of the seals, which is how I’m able to use my powers.”</p>
<p>Wooyoung was barely following—he’d need to start keeping a spreadsheet to keep up with all of this. Even so, he nodded as if he understood, urging San to continue.</p>
<p>“They’re a shell of what they once were, though. The seal I broke was only enough to give me some pathetic time-skip powers. They only last a few seconds, though, and my body isn’t equipped to handle using this kind of magic, anymore. This human body is fallible. I may be immortal still, but that’s a curse, not a blessing. I can get sick, injured—and I’m always so goddamn hungry.” His fork scraped against the plate with the sickening screech of metal on ceramic.</p>
<p>Wooyoung took his chance to ask a question that had been bugging him. “Human body? Are… where you come from, do you not… have bodies?”</p>
<p>San laughed like he had last night when Wooyoung had asked if he was a vampire, but a lot less drunkenly now. “Oh, god no. We look exactly the same as you, but we’re far from human. Our bodies don’t get sick or age. We can eat if we like, but we don’t experience hunger. We can sleep, too, but we don’t feel tired.”</p>
<p>“That sounds incredible.”</p>
<p>“Oh, trust me, it’s not as great as it seems. I don’t really feel like talking about home right now, though. Especially with you.” What was that supposed to mean? “Back to that sigil.”</p>
<p>Wooyoung glanced down at his palm, admiring the glow, fully formed now in the presence of San. “Right. This.”</p>
<p>“I think I gave you more than my powers. I think I gave you a piece of myself. These guys that are tracking me—they can sense my magic. And now <em> you </em> have some of my powers—and that goddamn GPS on your hand. Which makes <em> you </em>a liability. So until we figure out how to release you from this, you’re not leaving my sight. Got it?”</p>
<p>“And what if I say no?”</p>
<p>“I could find you, but I wouldn’t worry about me. I’d worry about <em> them </em> . You don’t want to know what happens if they find you. And they <em> will </em> find you. Trust me. The second I broke my first seal, I became a walking target. And you will too.”</p>
<p>A lump formed in Wooyoung’s throat, and he gulped it down with a wince. San was right, this wasn’t good. Wooyoung had just unknowingly walked into the middle of some sort of magic immortal god drama. Well, it’s more like he was dragged in. Either way, he was in way over his head. </p>
<p>San’s forked dropped against the ceramic plate, making a dramatic <em> clink. </em>Wooyoung glanced up from his plate just in time to see San’s eyes, which were fixed on something just beyond Wooyoung’s shoulder, widen in distress.</p>
<p>“Fuck. Shit. Speak of the <em> fucking </em> devil,” he hissed. “We need to go, <em> now </em>.”</p>
<p>Wooyoung managed only a brief glance over his shoulder, enough to see two darkly clad men heading towards their table, before San’s hand clamped harshly around his wrist, tugging him forwards so hard that his stomach smacked against the edge of the table before he could scramble out of the booth. </p>
<p>San broke into a sprint with Wooyoung in tow, who practically face-planted into the diner tile on the way out thanks to San's hand viced around his wrist. His legs scrambled to keep up with the inertia of his upper body being hauled with astonishing force.</p>
<p>They were out the diner door and sprinting down the concrete before Wooyoung even had a chance to ask what the hell was going on, though he had a pretty good idea. These were the guys that were after him.</p>
<p>“I’m gonna need you to hold my hand,” San panted breathlessly as he ran.</p>
<p>That was <em> not </em>what Wooyoung expected him to say just then. </p>
<p>“Ew, no,” Wooyoung protested instinctively.</p>
<p>“Not a fucking question.”</p>
<p>San’s hand slipped into his. He felt a jolting pulse of electricity through his limbs as the world around him fell still—every leaf on the trees, every cloud in the sky, every sound of the world's natural rhythm, frozen in place as if he was running through a still painting. He barely had a moment to dwell on it though—the whole world fell into colorful streaks in his peripheral as he kept up with San’s pace. His feet smacked hard against the asphalt, limbs aching beneath him. He thought he might start seeing sparks from the friction of his sneakers against the concrete, and his lungs burned like he’d inhaled a whole pack of cigarette smoke. </p>
<p>The sounds of the world resumed, but they kept sprinting. </p>
<p>“What the fuck are we—”</p>
<p>“Don’t... slow... down. We just need…” San panted, unable to catch his breath between bouts of sprinting. “to make… enough… space…”</p>
<p>Another jolt of electricity, sending the world around Wooyoung plummeting into unsettling stillness. His whole body fought against him as he kept the pace. They must have been sprinting for more than a mile, already. He hadn’t felt like this since 7th grade gym class. And then back to reality. This time-pausing thing was giving Wooyoung serious whiplash.</p>
<p>Time stopped again, except this time, San’s desperate sprint slowed to a lethargic jog. His legs looked shaky underneath him.</p>
<p>San rounded a corner suddenly, dumping both of them in a small alleyway between two large brick office buildings. What was it with this guy and alleyways, anyway? In three days, he’d been in three separate alleyways with Wooyoung. </p>
<p>San’s knees gave underneath him, sending him tumbling to the ground. He caught himself on the wall just in time to not smack his body against the concrete. </p>
<p>“The… powers,” he managed breathlessly. “My body… still isn’t… equipped…” His voice trailed off as his lungs searched for air. </p>
<p>Wooyoung glanced over his shoulder in paranoia. They had probably saved a bit of time, but their pursuers didn’t exactly seem like the type to give up once they’d made their mark. It was only a matter of time before they caught up. </p>
<p>Wooyoung extended his hand to San, motioning for him to get up. “San, come on. We have to keep going, they’re gonna—”</p>
<p>“I can’t!” San snapped. “I… can’t. You don’t understand how much the powers take out of me. Without all my seals broken, I’m just as worthless as you.”</p>
<p>“You said I didn’t want to know what would happen if we were caught. Well, I don’t. Come on, we have to keep—” </p>
<p>
  <em> Fuck.  </em>
</p>
<p>Wooyoung heard the sound of footsteps, and he turned to see the two men he’d caught a glimpse of in the diner. Wooyoung’s eyes flickered to San reactively for an answer, any possible way out. </p>
<p>“Just buy time,” San hissed. A look of dismay settled on his expression, which offered no solace to Wooyoung’s current state. He was supposed to have all the answers. </p>
<p>Wooyoung’s immediate reaction was to grab anything and<em> throw. </em>His eyes locked with an empty metal trash can just to the right of where San had collapsed against the wall. He dashed towards it, using all his strength to hoist it over his head before hurdling it with all his strength at the pursuers. </p>
<p>It hit one of them, who stumbled backwards, allowing him enough space to lunge forward to the other. He’d been enrolled in taekwondo as a kid, but he could hardly remember it now—his only hope was to start swinging his limbs and hope muscle memory kicked in at some point. The man threw a punch as Wooyoung approached, but he had just enough foresight to duck from its trajectory before it landed. </p>
<p>Wooyoung kicked his leg into the air as hard as he could, and it smacked against their pursuer’s jaw with a crack.</p>
<p>Guess those lessons paid off. </p>
<p>The man stumbled backwards, clutching his jaw for a moment before quickly cracking his neck. Shit. The other man, who he had just sent reeling towards the ground with the force of the trash can, regained his balance and dashed toward Wooyoung. He had just enough time to register the man’s fist grazing his cheek before everything <em> stopped </em>.  </p>
<p>The man’s fist lingered just centimeters from making impact on his jaw. </p>
<p>Holy shit, did he just—</p>
<p>He saw San pop up in his peripheral, who had mustered his strength for just long enough to punch the man in the face, sending his time-frozen body crashing to the ground. San reeled his knee up, delivering a swift downwards kick on the man’s head for good measure. Wooyoung took note of San’s plan—if they could knock him out before time resumed they'd be able to buy enough time to run, but they probably only had a few seconds to pull it off. Wooyoung swung his leg around again, delivering his best taekwondo-style kick to the other man’s stomach, then stomping hard on his head a-la San. </p>
<p>That should have been sufficient to knock them unconscious for long enough for them to run. At least, that’s what Wooyoung assumed San’s plan was. They were already running when time fell back into place, already down a city block. They ran until their lungs felt like they’d been doused in acid and their legs turned to jello, and even then they ran a little more. </p>
<p>“This… is probably… far enough…” San panted again.</p>
<p>They stopped, leaning against the nearest wall for a few minutes, doing their best to catch their breath.  </p>
<p>"Can't they just find us again? Should we keep running?" Wooyoung asked after enough air had made it back to his lungs.</p>
<p>"Not if we get far enough away. My guess is that they can only get a general sense that I'm around, but they're only able to find me if they get lucky. They've found me in the past, but if I buy enough time to escape it's usually months before they're on my trail again. My powers are so weak they're probably barely detectable."</p>
<p>Wooyoung nodded as if he understood, but he was still admittedly a bit lost. “Back there, did you…?”</p>
<p>“Stop time? No, I was out of juice. Still am." He nodded breathlessly in Wooyoung's direction. "That was all you.”</p>
<p>Wooyoung brought his palms up to his face, studying them. “Oh my god.”</p>
<p>“What’re you looking at your hands for?” San jeered. “You used your brain, not your hands, imbecile. You’re not Iron Man.”</p>
<p>Wow. Even in crisis, he was still a dick. </p>
<p>“Sorry… I’m just… surprised. I took taekwondo as a kid, but I’d never actually fought real people before.”</p>
<p>“I’ll admit, it was pretty impressive for a human.”</p>
<p>It wasn’t much, but that was probably the nicest thing San had said to him since they met. <br/><br/></p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>San’s dingy apartment felt like heaven after their excursion. They’d practically run through the whole city, and Wooyoung had a one-track mind to just collapse in bed and pass out. They’d wasted a significant portion of their day, and it was already dark outside by the time they’d waited out their pursuers to make sure they weren’t still on their trail.</p>
<p>Not only that, but after all that running, he’d burned through all those calories he’d just eaten, leaving his stomach still whining for more. </p>
<p>“Why don’t you have any <em> food </em>?” Wooyoung groaned loudly through the wall at San, who was doing god-knows-what in the bedroom. “I’m still fucking starving. No thanks to you." Then, under his breath, “Immortal asshole.”</p>
<p>Unfortunately for Wooyoung, San had exiled him to the couch indefinitely. He’d gotten too comfortable in San’s bed last night, and this was a significant downgrade. He flopped down into the couch cushions, enjoying the bit of rest fiddling with his phone—which was due to lose service in a few days. </p>
<p>“Oh my god, what the hell are those?”</p>
<p>Wooyoung looked up from the couch to see San, walking shirtless across the apartment. His immediate reaction was to avert his eyes in repulsion—he had no interest in seeing San’s chest, though it was surprisingly well-formed. But what caught his eye more than the lean muscles that cascaded through San’s chest and down his arms, were the large tattoos covering  the area—six intricate, circular symbols, much like the sigils on their palms. There were two on each arm, two on his chest, and two on his back, which Wooyoung could just barely make out from the way San was angled as he passed by.</p>
<p>San’s fingers brushed through his hair, messing with the strands. He glanced down at himself, then at Wooyoung with a subtle grin.</p>
<p>“These are my seals. I already broke the first one...” he pointed at his right bicep, ghosting his finger over the tattooed skin. “...which granted me some of my powers back. The few I do have. But I’m gonna find a way to break all of them.” He paused, eyes glimmering mischievously as he locked them with Wooyoung’s. His small grin twitched into a sly smirk.  “And you’re going to help me.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. ducunt volentem fata, nolentem trahunt</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>“These are my seals. I already broke the first one...” he pointed at his right bicep, ghosting his finger over the tattooed skin. “...which granted me some of my powers back. The few I do have. But I’m gonna find a way to break all of them.” He paused, eyes glimmering mischievously as he locked them with Wooyoung’s. His small grin twitched into a sly smirk.  “And you’re going to help me.”</p><p>Wooyoung’s face twisted in confusion. “How?  If you can’t figure out how to break them, there’s no way in hell I’ll be able to.”</p><p>“Oh, I’m aware. There’s no way your simple human mind can wrap around these seals. Hell, it took me 112 years to break the first one.”</p><p>“A hundred and—holy shit. How long have you been here? Earth, I mean.”</p><p>San’s eyes wandered upwards as if doing the mental math. “119 years, now.”</p><p>Jesus. Wooyoung could barely manage to make it through his 24 years—he couldn’t imagine over a hundred, not even counting however long San had existed before his banishment.</p><p>“About the seals. There’s this lead that I—”</p><p>“Wait, can you put a shirt on first? I don’t know what you do while you’re alone here, but we can at least lay down some decency rules while I’m here.”</p><p>“Oh, what, am I distracting you?” San teased with a flirtatious wink.</p><p>Wooyoung winced, painting his face with a look of exaggerated disgust. “Gross. No. I just don’t need to see your… everything.”</p><p>“Fine,” San scoffed with an eye-roll before heading back to his room to retrieve a shirt. </p><p>San resumed his spot in the kitchen, facing Wooyoung, who was still poised comfortably on the couch. It was strange for Wooyoung to see San in anything other than his usually more business-looking attire. He may have been a mess of a man, but he dressed like a professor at an ivy league college. He looked far more scholarly than he deserved to.  </p><p>San leaned against the counter, threading his hand through his neatly styled hair, letting a strand escape forward over his eyes.</p><p>“So, my lead,” he resumed, locking eyes with Wooyoung. “Recently I've been feeling a certain... energy. Ever since I moved here, I've been sensing another one of my kind. I can’t be entirely certain of that, but I’m not sure what else it would be. And I think his magic is a lot stronger than mine.” He paused for a moment, waiting for a nod from Wooyoung indicating he still followed. “So, if he was banished like me, and I can feel his energy, I’m thinking he might have found a way to break his own seals. Maybe even all of them.”</p><p>“There are more of your kind here? Immortals… Gods?”</p><p>“Well, yeah,” San replied mockingly, as if it should have been obvious to Wooyoung. “You may have even run into one or two of them in your lifetime, you just wouldn’t know it, assuming they hadn’t broken their seals. They’d pretty much be like the rest of the humans here, at least from the outside. I guess I just got lucky that I landed in the same place as one of them. It's our only lead, really. I think we should check it out. Whoever they are, they might have some answers. And if they don’t, they might know someone who does.”</p><p>“So if you’ve sensed him for a while now, why didn’t you go to him sooner?”</p><p>“I was putting it off. I only have a vague sense of his presence, but tracking down the precise location is going to be a pain in the ass. You might be able to help, though.”</p><p>“How?”</p><p>He reached across the counter from where he was leaned against it, retrieving his keys from a small hook on the wall. They jingled against each other as he held them up, displaying a large fob key. “Can you drive?”</p><p>Wooyoung shook his head. “No. I never got my license.”</p><p>San clicked his tongue against his teeth with an annoyed sigh. “Well, have you ever driven before? Anything?”</p><p>“Well, I guess a few times with my buddies in high school. My friend let me do donuts in the parking lot at night, and I almost totaled his car on a light pole. Then he stopped letting me.”</p><p>“That’ll have to do.” San tossed the keys in Wooyoung’s direction, who caught them reflexively. </p><p>“What? No fucking way. I <em> can’t drive </em>.”</p><p>“What’s the worst that’ll happen? We die?” San jeered derisively. "Did you happen to forget we’re immortal? Just don’t total my car, or I’ll fucking kill you.”</p><p>“Oh, I’m so scared,” Wooyoung taunted, wiggling his fingers sarcastically. “Did you happen to forget<em> I’m</em> immortal? What’re you gonna do, smite me, almighty Time God?”</p><p>San scoffed, brushing off Wooyoung’s taunts. He took that as a win. “We’ll head out first thing tomorrow morning. I’m going to my room. Don’t bother me.”</p><p>San retrieved a few beers from the back of the fridge before disappearing to his room and slamming the door behind him. </p><p>
  <br/>
  
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>Wooyoung turned the key in the ignition, lighting the car’s engine up with a harsh growl which softened to a low purr. It was a much nicer car than he expected San to have, considering the way his apartment looked, but he didn’t probe too much on how San managed to afford a car like this. It was safe enough to assume that he didn’t exactly acquire it legally. It had to have been almost eight years since he’d sat in the driver’s seat of a car. He glanced around, ghosting his fingers over the gear shift and the dashboard, then testing his feet on the pedals.</p><p>“What are you waiting for? We don’t have all day.”</p><p>“Jesus, don’t rush me. You’re the one that wanted me to drive when I don’t even have my license. What happens if I get pulled over or something?”</p><p>“What do you think, human? I freeze time and we drive away. It’s not that complicated.”</p><p>Wooyoung couldn’t even imagine how many warrants San must have out for his arrest by this point. </p><p>“Fine, just give me a second—” He adjusted the seat forward slightly, wiggling his butt against the leather to get comfortable. “—to remember how this thing works…”</p><p>He put the gear shift into reverse hesitantly. The car lurched backwards, sending San reeling forward against his seatbelt. </p><p>“What, is your foot made of fucking lead?”</p><p>“I didn’t ask to drive!”</p><p>“Whatever, come on. It’s an automatic, not a Model T. Just drive.”</p><p>Wooyoung took a deep breath before pulling out of the car lot, suppressing a whirlwind of curses that threatened to spill out. He was already worried about making it out of the city in one piece—it was probably best that he didn’t also drive angry. </p><p>As he did his best to navigate out of the city without killing any pedestrians, he glanced over occasionally at San in the passenger seat, whose hands were at his temples, eyes lowered in concentration. </p><p>“What the hell are you doing?”</p><p>“Following the source of the energy. It takes a lot of concentration, so I’m gonna need you to just shut up and keep driving where I tell you.”</p><p>“Jesus, okay. I was just asking,” Wooyoung replied defensively. </p><p>His only instruction so far from San was north out of the city, and he found his way to the highway after a lot of anxiety.</p><p>After a far-too-long while of awkward silence, Wooyoung raised his voice apprehensively. “How far are we going, anyway?”</p><p>“Didn’t I tell you to shut up?” San hissed. “I don’t know, okay?”</p><p>They drove for hours like that, with San directing Wooyoung which way to turn or what exit to take. It was a heated back-and-forth of San barking directions at Wooyoung, who was entirely overwhelmed already by just trying to keep his eyes on the road and the wheels in his own lane. </p><p>San was practically folded over his own lap at this point, his head still cupped in his hands in careful concentration. “Take a left here.”</p><p>“San, there is no fucking left, I’m on the freeway.”</p><p>“Fine, take the next exit and then turn left! Just go left!”</p><p>Wooyoung gritted his teeth together in anger, digging his fingernails into the steering wheel. San was driving him absolutely nuts, and they’d been driving for so long that Wooyoung’s ass was going numb underneath him. His stomach growled in protest of him not eating at all that day.</p><p>“Are we almost there?”</p><p>San groaned. “Yes, now shut up.”</p><p>They drove for a while longer, weaving through back streets now. They seemed to be in the middle of nowhere—a landscape far out of the city, marked by a large collection of rolling hills in every direction. Wooyoung navigated through winding roads, which dropped off the edge of what looked like cliffs. His grip tightened anxiously around the steering wheel with each tight turn he made.</p><p>“Here,” San announced finally at his side, lifting his eyes from his lap and sitting up straight, releasing the hold from around his temples. “It’s here.” </p><p>Wooyoung slowed the car down, glancing at the large clusters of trees framing the road. “Where? I don’t see—oh...”</p><p>To his right, accessible off the main road by a steep dirt path, the only sign of civilization for miles: an extravagant mansion perched at the stop of a hill, surrounded by what looked like hundreds of acres of sprawling lush grass fields. An ornate flower garden lined the perimeter. It looked like royalty lived here, not a banished god like San. Maybe Wooyoung’s bar was just really low, considering San’s lifestyle. </p><p>“They live… here?” Wooyoung asked, eyes widening as he turned down the dirt path. It felt like trespassing—it kind of was.</p><p>“I guess so,” San said with a shrug. “Doesn’t really surprise me, actually.”</p><p>Wooyoung drove hesitantly down the trail until he couldn’t anymore. They approached a large golden metal gate that blocked their path, punctuated on both sides by large marble lion statues. Seemed like overkill for a guy who didn't seem like he wanted to be found, considering where he chose to live. </p><p>“Looks like we’ll have to walk the rest of the way.”</p><p>“Seriously?” Wooyoung groaned. The path was steep up to the entrance of the mansion, but Wooyoung supposed he could benefit from the opportunity to stretch his legs. </p><p>They slipped through a crack between the bushes that lined the large gate. Wooyoung's hoodie snagged on one of the branches, serving a harsh reminder that he still only had one pair of clothes. The trudged up the pathway slowly, with San at the lead. </p><p>The mansion was far bigger in person than it had looked on the road. Wooyoung craned his neck up to admire the 19th century architecture. Under any other circumstances, he would have been entirely fascinated by this ornate display, but there were too many nerves bubbling inside him for him to dwell on the extravagance.</p><p>San placed his hand on the ornate handle of the oversized front door. </p><p>“Wait—you’re not even going to knock first?”</p><p>“Uh, no,” San scoffed, like Wooyoung had just asked the dumbest question possible. “Why would I?”</p><p>“O-okay,” Wooyoung stuttered as San put pressure down on the handle, unlatching it with a <em> click.  </em></p><p>San paused for a moment, as if surprised that it had actually opened instead of being locked, then pushed the heavy door open with the force of his shoulder against it. </p><p>Their path was cut short as soon as the door opened to reveal a darkly-clad man standing offensively at the mansion’s entrance, centered in front of a sprawling staircase. He stood seriously, a dark expression painting his features. His eyes sparkled threateningly, and his jet-black hair fell over one side, obscuring his left eye.</p><p>“Is that him?” Wooyoung whispered discreetly in San’s direction.</p><p>“No... this guy’s fully human,” San replied through gritted teeth, keeping his eyes locked on the man blocking their path. Unlike Wooyoung, he made no effort to keep their conversation classified. “A bodyguard, perhaps?”</p><p>The man was adorned in a neatly fitted black suit, and his proportions made him seem fitted for the career of a model rather than a bodyguard. Both hands snaked around his own waist, unholstering two 9mm pistols. He gripped one tightly in each hand, pointed at both of their chests. </p><p>A shrewd smirk played up on San’s lips. "I'm sure you know as well as anyone that your bullets won't do anything but leave a few scratches on us." </p><p>“These are warded bullets,” the man replied calmly, returning San’s sly confidence with a devilish smile of his own. His voice was deep and rich. “I’m sure you know what that means for you. So I suggest you state your identity and your business here. Now.”</p><p>San raised his hands up in a defensive surrender. “Whoa whoa whoa, easy McShooty. We're just here to talk to your boss.”</p><p>The bodyguard’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “How did you make it through the wards? This whole place is sealed off.”</p><p>An amused smirk twitched back up on the corners of San’s mouth. “So am I.” San reached for the hem of his dark button up top. The guard’s grip tightened around his handguns. “Whoa, whoa, chill. I’m just going to show you something. What, you think I’m going to attack you with my shirt?”</p><p>The man uttered a grunt of annoyance at San’s snarky tone, indicating reluctantly that he could continue.</p><p>San worked at the buttons, slowly undoing them to reveal his tattoo seals that he’d shown Wooyoung the night before. “Look, I’m sealed off, okay? I’m pretty much as useless as this one,” he said with a nod towards Wooyoung. “He’s human, alright? We’re in a little bind right now. I’m thinking your boss might have some answers we need. I’m not from the coalition, okay?”</p><p>
  <em> The coalition?  </em>
</p><p>The man seemed to let up some of his guard, lowering his guns slightly. </p><p>A voice rang out suddenly behind the bodyguard, echoing off the lofted walls. A small man stood at the top of the extravagant staircase, dressed in a plush-looking robe and fuzzy red slippers which looked oversized for his small frame. His hair was ice-white, styled up out of his face. Even from far away, he could make out how striking the man’s features were. </p><p>“Seonghwa, baby—can you turn up the heat? My feet are cold,” the man whined. Then, noticing San and Wooyoung poised defensively in the line of his bodyguard’s defense. “Oh, guests! Why didn’t you tell me we had guests? This is exciting!”</p><p>Wooyoung shot a glance at San, whose eyes widened as the man descended the stairs. “The Pirate?” San whispered under his breath. “Oh my god…”</p><p>
  <em> The Pirate?  </em>
</p><p>“Your little guard dog gave us a hell of a time,” San said through gritted teeth in the robed man’s direction. </p><p>“Oh, Seonghwa?” The man assumed a spot near his bodyguard, pressing up on his tiptoes to ruffle his hair. “He’s harmless.” Then, addressing him, “You can put down your guns, sweetheart.” </p><p>“Do you want me to keep an eye on them, Hongjoong, sir?” </p><p>“It’s fine, baby.” </p><p>His bodyguard—Seonghwa, as Hongjoong had called him—bowed slightly, stepping to the side to let Hongjoong step forward towards where San and Wooyoung stood. </p><p>He glanced up and down at them, a serious expression drawing over his face, eyebrows pinching together in concentration. Wooyoung stood awkwardly, not quite sure what to do with his hands under the scrutinizing glance. He wasn't sure what he expected, but the robed man in front of him certainly wasn't it. </p><p>Hongjoong's lips briefly pressed together before exploding into a giddy smile, flashing bright-white teeth.</p><p>“Well, don’t be shy, come on in! I’ve been waiting for you.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. mors certa, hora incerta</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His bodyguard—Seonghwa, as Hongjoong had called him—bowed slightly, stepping to the side to let Hongjoong step forward towards where San and Wooyoung stood. </p>
<p>He glanced up and down at them, a serious expression drawing over his face, eyebrows pinching together in concentration. Wooyoung stood awkwardly, not quite sure what to do with his hands under his scrutinizing gaze. </p>
<p>His lips briefly pressed together before exploding into a giddy smile, flashing bright-white teeth.</p>
<p>“Well, don’t be shy, come on in! I’ve been waiting for you.”</p>
<p>“Waiting… for us?” Wooyoung stuttered. It seemed all he was good for recently was asking redundant questions, but he was pretty much in over his head in every situation San put him in so far. </p>
<p>Hongjoong tilted his head to the side slightly, admiring Wooyoung for slightly longer than he was comfortable with, lips pressed together in thought. “Hm. Yes, I was waiting for both of you. I sensed the tiniest amount of energy, but of course—” he gestured around at his house “—I wasn’t going to look for you myself.” </p>
<p>San opened his mouth as if he was going to start an interrogation, but Hongjoong brought his hand up, which seemed to interject San’s train of thought. “What do you say about dinner?”</p>
<p>“That sounds <em> incredible, </em>” Wooyoung moaned. He was so hungry the mere thought of food made him feel strangely horny.</p>
<p>“Good. I hardly ever have guests, so this will be a nice treat.” He glanced over at Seonghwa, who was standing a few paces behind him protectively. “Seonghwa, baby, prepare the full dining table, okay? Make all the food we have.” Then, back to Wooyoung, who was practically melting into a puddle at the idea of eating <em> real food </em>. </p>
<p>Hongjoong raised his hand as if to toast a glass, an impish grin forming on his lips. “Tonight, we feast!”</p>
<p>
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</p>
<p>Seonghwa brought the food to the table, an extravagant display of meats, cheeses, potatoes—like a holiday dinner on steroids. He’d whipped it up surprisingly fast considering he’d done it all himself—what was his role, anyway? Wooyoung and San just assumed he was the bodyguard, but it seemed like more of a protective housewife to Hongjoong, who seemed to watch Seonghwa with stars in his eyes. Hongjoong was seated at the head of the large dining table, still adorned in his fuzzy robe and slippers. </p>
<p>“Thanks, baby. Why don’t you get us some wine and then you can sit down and have dinner with us?”</p>
<p>“Yes, sir,” Seonghwa agreed with a light bow.</p>
<p>Seonghwa returned to the table with the most expensive looking wine he’d ever seen. His suspicions were confirmed by San’s face, who was practically dribbling drool from the corners of his mouth just at the sight. Just as Hongjoong’s eyes sparkled for Seonghwa, San’s sparkled for expensive alcohol. Of course. </p>
<p>Hongjoong gestured to Seonghwa as he distributed the wine between each patron’s glass. “This is Seonghwa, by the way. I know you already met him when you came in—sorry about the unwarm welcome, by the way. Can never be too safe, as I’m sure you know. Anyway, he’s—well, he does basically everything around here. Like my personal assistant, you could say. And I pay him handsomely for it, of course.” </p>
<p>Seonghwa took his spot behind Hongjoong’s chair one he was done pouring the wine, his large hands settling down on Hongjoong’s small shoulders protectively. Hongjoong tilted his chin up towards him, pursing his lips together expectantly, and Seonghwa bowed down gingerly to plant a soft peck against his Hoongjoong’s lips. </p>
<p>A soft smile formed on Hongjoong’s face, and he patted the seat next to him. “Sit down, sweetheart.”</p>
<p>Seonghwa took a seat at Hongjoong’s side, and Hongjoong reached for his fork, indicating they could dig in. Wooyoung was famished, but he opted to take a big swig of wine before starting on his his meal. It seemed sacreligious to waste such a premium wine by knocking it back like he was taking shots, but Wooyoung had a<em> long </em> week, and alcohol sounded like exactly what he needed. </p>
<p>As soon as dinner was underway, San wasted no time digging into Hongjoong with his questions. “So, you’re the Pirate, aren’t you?” he started, leaning his elbows over the table with piqued interest. </p>
<p>Hongjoong smiled slyly, flashing those bright-white teeth like before. There was something so devilish about his smile, like he was hiding something darker underneath his friendly demeanor. “Ah, I see my reputation precedes me.”</p>
<p>San looked pleased with himself. “I knew it.” </p>
<p>“The... Pirate?” Wooyoung asked, his question punctuated by shoveling mouthfuls of food down his throat barbarically, primal hunger overtaking his limbs.  </p>
<p>“He’s infamous back home. I mean, he’s practically a storybook character. He was way before my time, so we’ve never met, but I feel like we have.”</p>
<p>“Why the name ‘pirate’?”</p>
<p>The question was directed at Hongjoong, but San cut in at Wooyoung’s side first. “He was banished for stealing important artifacts from the coalition. It’s pretty much the highest crime you can commit.”</p>
<p>Wooyoung had no idea what those words meant, but he nodded, imagining he looked like a hamster with his cheeks stuffed with mashed potatoes. </p>
<p>“What can I say?” Hongjoong flashed a mischievous smile, gesturing around at the ornately furnished dining room, which looked, much like the rest of the place—tastelessly grandiose. “I have expensive taste.”</p>
<p>So he was a kleptomaniac. That made sense. It seemed these gods were riddled with vices. </p>
<p>“So… do you also control time?” Wooyoung asked, already anticipating the snarky comment from San for how stupid of a question it was, but he was surprisingly quiet. On his best behavior, Wooyoung supposed. </p>
<p>“Oh, no, no. I have… a specialty,” he tapped his finger against his skull. “A rare skill, if you will. I control<em> minds </em>.”</p>
<p>Mind control? Holy shit. Wooyoung had no idea that was within the scope of San’s realm, but then again, why wouldn’t it be? </p>
<p>Wooyoung must have looked terrified, because Hongjoong laughed lightly. “Oh, don’t worry. I won’t use them on you. I only use them to… let’s just say ‘get my way’. I haven’t had to use them since setting up the wards here, though. I pretty much have everything running smoothly now.”</p>
<p>Wooyoung fell silent, slightly embarrassed by his look of fear earlier, and San was too preoccupied downing glasses of expensive wine to be paying attention to the atmosphere of the room.</p>
<p>Hongjoong took a small sip out of his own glass. “So, you said you needed my help with something?”</p>
<p>“Right. This.” </p>
<p>San raised his palm in Hongjoong’s direction, and Wooyoung followed his lead. Hongjoong’s eyes narrowed as he scrutinized the symbol. Wooyoung assumed since Yeosang couldn’t see the sigil, that no one could aside from him and San. His eyebrows punched together for a moment, and then he nodded, affixing his eyes back to their faces.</p>
<p>“You transferred your powers to him, didn’t you?”</p>
<p>San tilted his head. “Yeah, how did you—” </p>
<p>“I’ve seen it before. Only once, but I’ve seen it. Mind you, this was hundreds of years ago. My memory of it is going fuzzy now. But, I was helping another one of us break his seals so he could save his wife from illness—a human. In the process, he ended up transferring his powers to her, including his immortality.”</p>
<p>Wooyoung nodded softly. “Right, that’s what happened to me. I was dead, but he brought me back to life, and when I woke up, I had this symbol on my hand and I couldn’t die.”</p>
<p>“Right, exactly. Well, at first he was happy—he’d successfully saved his wife, and she was immortal now, so he couldn't lose her. The only problem is… the human may become immortal, but their bodies are still human. And human bodies are not equipped to handle the mental force of our powers. It’s different for us." He gestured between him and San. "We might have been cursed with mortal bodies, but our minds are still operating at full capacity. Humans… their minds aren’t as evolved. It-it takes a toll on their bodies. We discovered that if he broke all the seals, he could break her from the curse, but...”</p>
<p>He paused to scrape his fork on his plate absently. His eyes went somber, and his face looked paler than before. That didn’t seem good.</p>
<p>“It was already too late. They called it ‘consumption’. He was able to break the seals and therefore break the bond... but, his wife… well, she was long gone. I can’t remember exactly what happened, but her brain malfunctioned thanks to the strain the powers had on her body. By the time he broke the seal, it was too late. She was more or less dead already. Her body was in a vegetative state.”</p>
<p>“So, if we break the seals before then, he’ll go back to normal?”</p>
<p>“I can only assume. But in his case…” Hongjoong paused again, studying Wooyoung with his dark gaze. “There’s a possibility when you break the bond, he’ll die.”</p>
<p>“I’d rather die than be a vegetable,” Wooyoung muttered under his breath, though what he really meant was that he wanted to die, in general.</p>
<p>“So,” San started, ignoring Wooyoung’s remark. “It’s lose-lose, then?” </p>
<p>“I’m afraid to say. I mean, there’s a chance I’m wrong. But I can’t say for sure. I’d say it’d be best to prepare for the worst case.”</p>
<p>The table fell silent for a minute, save for the sounds of dishes rattling against each other as they scraped their plates clean finished the contents of their wine glasses. Shit, how much wine did Wooyoung drink? He was starting to see stars in his vision, and his thoughts felt suddenly cloudy.</p>
<p>“Well, I’m sure you have more questions for me still, and I could stay up talking all night—this is the most company I’ve had for centuries—but you two should really be going to bed,” Hongjoong said decidedly, setting his wine glass on the table with a delicate <em> clink. </em> “You’ve had a long day, and I bet you’re tired now from all the food.” <em> And the wine. </em> “We can reconvene in the morning.”</p>
<p>Wooyoung didn’t realize just how much wine he’d had until he stood up from the table. The ground seemed to warp under his feet as he took a few precursory steps forward. He felt like he was walking on some sort of fucked up backwards treadmill. </p>
<p>Hongjoong directed both him and San towards their room for the night, thankfully. Navigating the infinite maze that was his mansion was already hard enough without the factoring in Wooyoung being tipsier than he’d been in years. He could barely tell right from left at this point.</p>
<p>“This is where you’ll be,” Hongjoong said with a smile, gesturing to a large doorway which led into a large bedroom.</p>
<p>Wooyoung’s eyes went wide, mouth going dry when he saw the room. “O-one bed? For both of us?”</p>
<p>Hongjoong flashed an abashed grin. “I don’t really have many guests, so I only have one spare room with a bed. The rest are filled with… uh, let’s just say<em> trinkets </em>.” </p>
<p>He filled his entire mansion with “trinkets” instead of beds? What the hell was with this guy? This guy was a serious hoarder. Though, Wooyoung supposed it made sense. Him and Seonghwa lived alone in a secret warded mansion: there wasn’t really a need for more than one extra bedroom.</p>
<p>“Just don’t hog the blankets,” San teased with a flirtatious wink in Wooyoung’s direction, who followed up with an exaggerated eye-roll. “Don’t worry, I’ve heard I’m a <em> pleasure </em>to sleep with.” </p>
<p>Of course—it wasn’t enough that he was stuck with San, but he had to share a bed with him too. </p>
<p>San slipped in the door first, followed by an unsteady Wooyoung. He prayed he wasn’t going to have to stumble drunkenly into the hallways at night to try to find a bathroom, because he’d probably get lost and end up sleeping on the hallway floor. Wooyoung glanced over his shoulder to see if Hongjoong was still standing by the door frame, but he had already absconded into his endless jungle of a home before Wooyoung could ask about it. </p>
<p>Not looking where he was going, he tripped over the ornate area rug on the floor on his way in, sending him stumbling in San’s direction, who caught him by the forearm before his face smacked against the wooden bedframe.  </p>
<p>“O-oh jesus, thanks,” Wooyoung mumbled. Even if he couldn’t die, cracking his head open would have hurt like hell. </p>
<p>San helped Wooyoung steady himself, hands cupped underneath Wooyoung’s forearms, and then they were snaking around to the small of his back, pulling him closer until their faces were barely inches apart, a mess of fruity-sweet breath forming between them. </p>
<p>“I bet you did that on purpose, hmm?” San purred jokingly, puffy, hooded eyes wandering over Wooyoung’s features, admiring him from up-close. </p>
<p>Nothing about San’s tone was serious, but it didn’t matter. Wooyoung had drank entirely too much wine—enough for his better judgement to take a backseat. He didn’t know what came over him, but suddenly he felt his lips press up against San’s, feeling the heat that overtook his cheeks flare into more than just a drunken flush.</p>
<p>He pulled away quickly, his mind scrambling for something to say to somehow explain why he’d just<em> done that </em>, and how goddamn bad of an idea it was. But San’s hand was already pressing harder against the small of his back through Wooyoung’s hoodie and pulling him in for another, more feverishly this time.</p>
<p>Wooyoung reciprocated against him. It was a mistake, he knew it was. He never thought about San as anything other than ‘entitled asshole’—and he still didn’t—but he was just <em> there, </em> drunk, holding onto Wooyoung’s waist and pulling him in, and it just happened, and for a fleeting moment, Wooyoung melted against San’s lips, and he felt <em> good </em>. </p>
<p>San’s hand pulled at the hem of Wooyoung’s hoodie, tugging it up just enough for his hands to wander underneath the thick fabric, ghosting along Wooyoung’s hip bones just above the band of his jeans. His lips pressed tighter against Wooyoung’s, whose arms wrapped around San’s shoulders to keep him from tipping over. </p>
<p>Wooyoung felt San’s index finger hook through the waistband of his jeans, delivering a sharp tug forward towards him with a low growl, pulling Wooyoung against him until their bodies were nearly flush. Alarm bells blared in Wooyoung’s head, and he reeled back, shaking San’s hands off him in a state of shock. </p>
<p>San’s face twisted as he attempted to meet Wooyoung’s eyes, which were dropped downwards, fixed on the spot on San’s chest his hand had just occupied. “What?”</p>
<p>“What are you doing?” Wooyoung questioned. </p>
<p>“What do you mean?” San’s hands wandered back up to his waist, teasing under the fabric of the hoodie again, digging his fingers into Wooyoung’s skin, who wriggled away from his touch again. </p>
<p>“Th-that. Touching me like that…”</p>
<p>San’s eyebrows threaded together.“What do you mean? I’m taking your clothes off.”</p>
<p>“I’m not trying to <em> do </em> anything with you, San. I was just kissing you.”</p>
<p>“I thought you wanted to fuck,” San said matter-of-factly, stepping forward to drag his fingertips along Wooyoung’s jaw. “That’s usually how these things go for me.”</p>
<p>“Why the <em> fuck </em> would you think that? It was just a kiss, San. I shouldn’t have done it anyway. We’re drunk. <em> I’m </em> drunk. It didn’t mean anything.”</p>
<p>“I dunno, I guess I just figured you wanted sex. It’s all you humans are good for, anyway.”</p>
<p>
  <em> Right. All he was good for. </em>
</p>
<p>“You're right, San. It is all I’m good for.” He shook San’s hands off of him again, face twisting with disgust, with anger, but mostly with hurt. “Just… please, stop. Forget this ever happened.”</p>
<p>San reached forward towards Wooyoung’s arm, but he slapped his hand away. “Wait, what did I—”</p>
<p>“Don’t touch me.”</p>
<p>“Wooyoung—” </p>
<p>That was the first time San had ever said his name. </p>
<p>“I'm going to bed.”</p>
<p>Wooyoung pushed away from San, making a point not to even hazard a fleeting glance in his direction while he climbed into bed, still fully clothed. He didn’t even care about that. He just wanted to shut the world off and let himself spiral into darkness.</p>
<p>Wooyoung spent the entire night doing everything he could to avoid being within arms length of San while he slept, short of rolling off the bed and sleeping on the floor. He curled himself at the edge of the mattress, which, despite it being a king, still felt way too close for comfort after what just happened. </p>
<p>
  <em> All he was good for.  </em>
</p>
<p>Everything flooded back in all at once—the emptiness, the hopelessness, the worthlessness he felt on that rooftop. He wasn’t good for anything but being a burden. He was only good for being used and discarded like a used toy. His mind conjured fleeting images of his past pain, everything all at once, every way in which his life seemed absolutely meaningless. </p>
<p>The past few days, he’d almost forgotten why he was even in this situation in the first place. It was because he was <em> worthless</em>.</p>
<p>San wasn’t his friend. To San, he was just another fallible human he could use and throw away. The only difference between him and any other human San toyed around with was that San was obligated to keep Wooyoung around because he was a liability.</p>
<p>For a minute, he thought he might be able to see San as something other than the dirtbag that he was. </p>
<p>For a minute, just a minute, he thought there might have been more to him. <em> How silly of him. </em></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. dis aliter visum</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>Wooyoung hadn’t uttered a word to San the whole morning. </p><p>He’d woken up early, much earlier than San—and early enough to catch a glimpse of the sunrise glowing over the hills, painting the sky a vibrant shade of blood-orange. Living in the city his whole life, and never having the money to travel, it wasn’t often that Wooyoung got to experience nature like this in such a raw form. He could only recall waking up to the sun rising outside his childhood apartment’s windows, catching just a sliver of the sun as it rose behind a suffocatingly dull concrete jungle.</p><p>Wooyoung wasn’t sure what it was, but historically, being drunk lent itself to a terrible night’s rest more often than not. He rolled out of bed, eyes crusty with the remnants of sleep, hair forming a birds nest on top of his head. San was still conked out, taking up far too much space on the mattress. Wooyoung didn’t even want to look at him. He was tired, but he couldn’t stand being in the same room as him. </p><p>He wandered out into the hallway hesitantly. He was sure the second he lost sight of the room he was in that he wasn’t going to be able to find his way back. It took him what felt like hours of endless wandering to locate a bathroom to get cleaned up in, but the sun was still rising when he re-emerged. The mansion was covered in an eerie fog of silence now, and Wooyoung was conscious of every footstep, every floorboard creak, every breath he took, which echoed loudly off the large, lofted walls. </p><p>Everything about Hongjoong’s place was disgustingly grandiose, full of marble and gold fixtures. It reeked of upper-class gaudiness, like somewhere a Hollywood elite might live. Hongjoong, on the other hand, was the exact antithesis of his own aesthetic—messy, care-free, inviting. </p><p>Wooyoung wandered aimlessly until he found the main staircase, a grand display of oversized stairs lined with a shiny golden guard-rail. He descended it, heading towards the mansion’s entrance. He thought fresh air might be good for him—might be able to give him a sense of perspective after his night spent spiralling back into self-destruction. Anything to get his mind off how <em> worthless </em>he felt. Anything to get out of that goddamn bed with San.</p><p>He spent a while sitting on the front steps, absorbing as much oxygen as he could to see if it would clear his brain-fog, or the depression that hung over him like a raging storm cloud. Birds chirped around him, and bumblebees hummed gently, scattered around the neatly-kept flower garden. The serenity washed over him, and he felt for a moment like he could finally <em> relax. </em>But he knew it wouldn’t last too much longer. He’d have to face San again eventually.</p><p>“You’re up quite early.” </p><p>Wooyoung whipped his head around to see Hongjoong, still in a robe—though Wooyoung could have sworn it was a different color yesterday—standing just a few feet behind him. He was starting to think this guy only owned the same robe in different colors. </p><p>“I had a hard time sleeping,” Wooyoung uttered, voice croaking dryly. He hadn’t tried to speak since waking up, and all that wine last night had practically sucked all the moisture out of his body.</p><p>“I understand. This place can be unsettling if you’re not used to it. When I first moved here, I could barely get a full night’s sleep. The place is so big and quiet at night, and when I moved here I was entirely alone. I even worried there were ghosts wandering my halls at night.”</p><p>Wooyoung chuckled. “Are immortals afraid of ghosts?”</p><p>A gentle smile tugged at Hongjoong’s lips. “Being immortal doesn’t automatically make you immune to fear. Our bodies may be superior to humans, but our minds are just as fallible. We have feelings and fears like the rest of you.”</p><p>“Sure doesn’t seem like it,” Wooyoung muttered bitterly under his breath, images of San coming to mind. There was no way that man had felt a single human emotion in his life. Or, if he did, they were shoved deep down by copious amounts of alcohol. </p><p>Hongjoong kneeled down to take a seat next to Wooyoung on the top step, eyes pulled upwards towards the sunrise, which was just fading into the morning. “Trust me, I never expected to fall in love with a human. Not until it happened to me. I thought my only weakness was the expensive taste that led to my banishment. But it turns out my other weakness is love. Seonghwa… well, he won’t be here for more than a fleeting moment. Not compared to my lifetime.” </p><p>Wooyoung glanced over at Hongjoong, whose voice was cracking now, the beginnings of tears glimmering at the corners of his eyes. He cleared his throat. “Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that we’re not that much different than humans, after all.”</p><p>Wooyoung had a sudden feeling that he should change the subject, with the way Hongjoong choked back tears by his side. “So… you said you sealed this place off with wards, right? That’s why it was so surprising that we were able to pass, even with our powers.”</p><p>“I’m assuming you’ve met a few members the coalition already. Our wards were meant to keep them out, but they keep out everything else with powers too. That, and they keep me in.”</p><p>“You can’t leave?”</p><p>Hongjoong shook his head. “I can’t. Seonghwa leaves for me when I need things, but most things I acquire by delivery. I’ve made lots of… arrangements for my life to run smoothly without needing to leave.”</p><p>Wooyoung simply nodded. Hongjoong’s mind control powers probably came it handy in the way of getting people to just give him things on earth. That’s probably how he was able to acquire this multi-million dollar mansion. He had half a mind to ask what would happen to Hongjoong when Seonghwa wasn’t there anymore, but he supposed it was inappropriate considering the way he’d teared up just talking about him. </p><p>“Anyway, the coalition knows my location, but they can’t pass, so they’ve given up trying for now. Our wards start near the gate you passed to get in, and span the whole property. I was surprised you two were able to make it through, but I suppose it makes sense. San’s powers aren’t strong enough yet to trigger the wards. But if he breaks all his seals, he probably won’t be able to visit me again.” Hip lips formed into a pout. “Which sucks, because I haven’t had guests in far too long.”</p><p>“The coalition you keep talking about… who are they?”</p><p>“San hasn’t told you?”</p><p>“No, he only told me <em> ‘they’ </em> were after him. He never specified who. He doesn’t exactly like handing out information without incentive.”</p><p>Hongjoong nodded, pressing his index finger against his lips in careful thought. “Right. It’s a bit hard to explain, but they’re… well, they’re sort of judge, jury, and executioner where we’re from. Imagine something like medieval kings, but a lot more power. And power, well, it can be consuming. I don’t regret stealing from them, not for one second. To be honest, and I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm happier on earth than I ever was there. You know, humanity isn’t the only society that suffers from corruption.”</p><p>Wooyoung was having a difficult time conceptualizing an image of this immortal society. </p><p>A deep voice from behind them startled Wooyoung, and Hongjoong whipped his head over his shoulder at the noise, jumping nearly a foot in the air at Seonghwa standing above him on the step. “Sir, your guest is up.”</p><p>Hongjoong pushed himself to his feet by his palms, and Wooyoung followed. His conversation with Hongjoong had helped distract him from his low spirits following what happened the night before. His head pulsed with a hangover headache, and he felt slightly nauseous as he attempted to steady himself on his feet. </p><p>“Thanks, baby,” Hongjoong cooed affectionately at Seonghwa, pulling him in for a light peck, pushing up on his toes to reach Seonghwa’s lips. “I suppose we should all reconvene for breakfast then.”</p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>Seonghwa prepared yet another feast for them in the morning, an overwhelming display to Wooyoung’s stomach after having barbarically stuffed dinner down his throat barely 12 hours earlier. Even so, Wooyoung made it his mission to eat as much as his stomach could handle to make up for San’s complete disregard of bare minimum living standards, including having his fridge fully stocked. Or, stocked at all.</p><p>They made light conversation around the table, but Wooyoung tuned most of it out. San’s voice sickened him, and he barely met San’s eyes once since they’d woken up. The awkward tension between them was palpable, as was Wooyoung’s still-open emotional wound from where San had carved into him and planted seeds of self-doubt. They weren’t talking about anything particularly important, but even if they were, Wooyoung didn't care. His brain couldn't handle any more immortal nonsense. He wanted to go home and curl up into a ball and cease to exist. </p><p><em> Home. </em>Right. That thing he didn't have anymore. Instead he was stuck living on San's couch—jobless, hopeless, alone, and devastatingly immortal. Oh, and he'd just been delivered the news that his brain was going to be reduced to mush if San didn't act fast to break his seals. He didn't have much to look forward to. </p><p>Breakfast wrapped up, and San indicated that him and Wooyoung should get going. Wooyoung wasn't sure what his hurry was—Hongjoong's place was so much better than what San had waiting for him back at his apartment. Hell, at least Hongjoong seemed to eat 3 full meals a day. </p><p>San probably just wanted to get back to bar-hopping and fucking anything within a 100-foot radius. If it were Wooyoung's choice, he would have stayed there as long as he could. It seemed like a paradise in contrast with San's rather… minimalist lifestyle, if Wooyoung had to put it nicely. </p><p>Hongjoong and Seonghwa gathered to give them a send-off at the door. He stood at the bottom of the stairs, Seonghwa poised at his side protectively with his arm clutched around Hongjoong's tiny waist, which was cinched in by the belt of his robe. </p><p>“I know I wasn't much help, but before you go, I wanted to give you this.” </p><p>Hongjoong extended his hand, holding a small slip of paper that dangled between his thumb and index finger. </p><p>San retrieved it from Hongjoong. “What is it?” </p><p>"An address. The man that helped me break the last of my seals works there. Well, I guess I should really say <em> worked</em>. That was over a hundred years ago now. But there's a chance they still run their business out of there. It'd be worth checking out, at least." </p><p>“Thanks," San said, studying the address on the slip. He turned to Wooyoung, addressing him. “Looks like it's not far from my apartment.” </p><p>Wooyoung didn't meet his gaze, didn't even acknowledge his words in any way, instead keeping his eyes on Hongjoong, who was pressed up against Seonghwa's side even closer now. They looked so dramatically opposite next to each other. One tall, the other short. One neatly dressed in a tightly tailored dark suit, the other soft and messy. It was actually kind of adorable. </p><p>“Thanks for letting us stay, Hongjoong. And for the food," Wooyoung smiled warmly. "And thank you, Seonghwa. I know we didn't get off to a great start, but I really enjoyed your cooking."</p><p>A blush formed on Seonghwa's cheeks in response, accompanied by a flustered bow. A bright-white grin flashed over Hongjoongs face. “Oh no, no, it was my pleasure! I loved having guests,” Hongjoong exclaimed, then sent a wink flying in Wooyoung's direction. “You're always welcome back.”</p><p>“What about me?” San grumbled. </p><p>“You, too, of course. Though, when those seals are broken, you won't be able to make it through. Speaking of, definitely check out that address I gave you. With any luck, they'll be someone there who can help you. Just tell them I sent you. Oh, and Wooyoung, I wanted to give you this.”</p><p>Hongjoong stepped out of Seonghwa’s arms to slip Wooyoung a small piece of plastic from his robe pocket. He didn’t have time to react, or even check what the object was, before Hongjoong’s arms were slung around Wooyoung’s shoulders, pulling him in for a warm goodbye hug. Hongjoong’s breath came up against his ear.</p><p>
  <em> “Nice seeing you again, Wooyoung.” </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>“So what did he give you?” San asked, glancing over at Wooyoung in the passenger seat. San hadn’t had a chance to see what Hongjoong gave him before Wooyoung shoved it in his pocket when he came in for his hug. </p><p>“A credit card,” Wooyoung answered dryly, not bothering to look over at him. He had no interest in talking with San. He just wanted to get home and collapse in bed.</p><p>“Oh,” San said quietly, fixing his eyes back on the road. “Okay.”</p><p>San was being a lot milder now. All morning, in fact. He probably sensed the obvious way that Wooyoung pulled away, not responding to his questions, not even acknowledging his presence all morning. His usual sharp quips were replaced by light conversation, all of which Wooyoung dismissed. </p><p>A tense silence had formed between them, the air growing so thick it was almost palpable. Wooyoung directed his gaze out the window, angling his body away from San’s to indicate he just wanted to be left alone. He stared at the window and watched the landscape go by in streaks—the lush fields slipping away as the car zoomed back towards the concrete prison of the city. Wooyoung longed for an escape—any escape. </p><p>As he watched the scenery go by, he had time to think—to think about everything he’d learned on their trip, to think about his eventual fate, to think about what Hongjoong had said after giving him the credit card. He had absolutely no idea what Hongjoong had meant by that, because he’d slipped out of the hug so quickly with nothing but a soft smile and a wave afterwards to send them off.  <em> Seeing him again? </em></p><p>San’s voice interrupted his train of thought. “Hey, about last night, Wooyoung—"</p><p>“Didn’t I tell you to forget about it?” Wooyoung snapped.</p><p>San scoffed. “Fine. Jesus. Look, I’m just sorry if I hurt your feelings.”</p><p>“Wow, thanks. That makes me feel better,” Wooyoung retorted sarcastically, pulling his gaze back out the window.</p><p>“Fine, be that way. But you can’t say I didn’t apologize.”</p><p>God, San really was awful at this. He was actually just really awful, in general.</p><p>The rest of the car ride was painfully silent, as was the elevator ride back up to San’s apartment. Wooyoung wished he had a room to storm off to and a door to slam behind him, but he was stuck on San’s shitty couch with no privacy. </p><p>He reeked of unwashed clothes, and he cursed himself for not taking the time to ask Hongjoong if he had a washing machine before they left. San must have seen him sniffing his own armpits with a look of disgust because he glanced up to a t-shirt and hoodie hurdling at his face. </p><p>“Jesus christ!” Wooyoung yelled, catching the clothes in his hands before they smacked him in the jaw. </p><p>“Take those. I don’t wear them, anyway. And maybe we should use that credit card Hongjoong gave you to get you some new clothes or something. You reek of human… filth.”</p><p>Yep, that was more like the San he knew. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. aegri somnia</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p>
  <b>[ wooyoung ]</b>
</p><p>      hey, do you think you could bring me that bag of clothes i left with you? </p><p>      I’m starting to reek</p><p>
  <b>[ yeosang ]</b>
</p><p>      yeah dude, but where have you been?</p><p>      you wanna come over here?</p><p>
  <b>[ wooyoung ] </b>
</p><p>      can’t. being held hostage </p><p>
  <b>[ yeosang ] </b>
</p><p>      what???? do you need me to call someone </p><p>
  <b>[ wooyoung ] </b>
</p><p>      no it’s fine you’ll see what i mean</p><p>      if you bring over some ingredients i can cook for you</p><p>      as compensation for the trip </p><p>
  <b>[ yeosang ] </b>
</p><p>      not much compensation if i’m the one bringing the food -_-</p><p>      but okay, i can be there in like an hour </p><p>
  <b>[ wooyoung ]</b>
</p><p>      thanks :) </p><p>      i’ll text you the address</p><p> </p><p>“San,” Wooyoung called in his direction. </p><p>San was puttering around in the kitchen, doing god knows what, considering they still didn’t have any food in the place. He’d have to find some time to convince San to let him leave to get groceries now that they finally had some down time. They’d been moving at lightning speed trying to figure everything out for the past week, and Wooyoung desperately needed a few days of rest. San was quick to agree—as long as it meant he could hit the bars at night. Wooyoung wasn’t complaining, though, if that meant San would be out of his hair for a few hours. </p><p>“What?” he groaned back.</p><p>“I’m having a friend over. He’s gonna bring me some clothes,” Wooyoung replied. “What the fuck are you doing in there?”</p><p>“Looking for something, why does it matter—wait, who said you could have friends over?”</p><p>“Well if you’re going to imprison me here, the least you could do is let me see my friend. Plus, wasn’t it you who said I reek of human filth?”</p><p>“Fine. Whatever.”</p><p>“So just… stay in your room or whatever. And don’t eavesdrop.”</p><p>Wooyoung caught a glimpse of San rolling his eyes from behind the kitchen counter. “What, you think I <em> want </em>to listen to you jabber about your dumb human problems? Please. I’d rather gouge my eyes out with this.” </p><p>San held up an ice cream scooper that he procured from the drawer, smiling at himself like he’d just told the world’s funniest joke. Wooyoung simply stared dryly. Why did he have an ice cream scooper but couldn’t even keep his pantry stocked with ten cent ramen? </p><p>“Oh! Found it.” San beamed, shoving an unidentified object in his pocket before heading back to his drunk-cave. “I’ll be in my room.”</p><p>“Stay there,” Wooyoung grumbled. </p><p>Wooyoung did his best to tidy up the place to make it presentable before Yeosang arrived, but there really wasn’t any saving it, so he eventually gave up. A few apprehensive rapps sounded from across the apartment, and Wooyoung rushed to the door to let Yeosang in. </p><p>Wooyoung’s duffle bag of clothes was slung over one shoulder, and he held a large reusable bag in the other, filled to the brim with ingredients. Wooyoung’s mouth watered at the sight of actual fresh, leafy vegetables spilling out the top. His body craved anything with more nutrients than a can of cheap beer.</p><p>“This…” Yeosang gestured around the place. “...is where you’re being held? It just looks like a normal apartment.”</p><p>“What, did you expect I was being held in some evil guy’s dungeon?” Wooyoung joked, directing Yeosang to place the food bag on the counter. </p><p>The corners of his mouth twitched up as if he was trying to hold in a laugh. He gestured at the overflowing bag of food he brought. “I didn’t know what you wanted to make, so I just brought a bunch of stuff.”</p><p>“I’ll throw something good together. I like a challenge,” Wooyoung grinned, rummaging through the bag to examine his spoils. Immediately, he identified a few ingredients that would be perfect for a spicy curry. </p><p>“You always were amazing at cooking,” Yeosang complimented as he took a seat at the counter stool. “I remember when you cooked for me in high school, and somehow you were able to make ramen feel gourmet.”</p><p>Wooyoung ransacked San’s cupboards, gathering up every possible cooking instrument, which was surprisingly a lot for a guy who would probably find a way to burn cereal. </p><p>Yeosang’s compliment evoked memories that Wooyoung hadn’t consciously thought about in what felt like ages—Yeosang following him home after school, foraging through his pantry for anything edible. Wooyoung would pretend he was on <em> Chopped </em>, one of his favorite shows since he was a kid, running the timer as Yeosang narrated dramatically from the sidelines. </p><p>They’d laugh until their stomachs hurt and then collapse on the couch with whatever Wooyoung had concocted that day, turning on the latest season of Survivor they had DVR’d. They’d laugh and smile so hard their jaws ached, and Yeosang would stay with Wooyoung until his mom would call, wondering where he was and if he’d done his homework—he hadn’t—and then they’d do it all again the next day. </p><p>Wooyoung had even wanted to be a chef—he dreamt of being admitted to culinary school after high school, doing meticulous research about all the best ones across the country, but he planned on taking a few years first to save money so he didn’t end up going into too much debt. </p><p>Where was that Wooyoung now? That was the Wooyoung that Yeosang knew before all of this. Yeosang probably found it strange, now, to see his best friend like this—so lifeless, so dull, so apathetic towards his own death. Wooyoung tried his best to fake it, but Yeosang wasn’t dumb. Wooyoung was sure he could see right through him, even now. </p><p>Wooyoung focused on his cooking as they caught up. Yeosang seemed to tread delicately around him, avoiding any topics related to Wooyoung’s current condition, but difficult topics were inevitably going to arise—particularly, addressing why Wooyoung had fallen off the face of the earth 4 years ago.</p><p>“Wooyoung.”</p><p>He glanced over his shoulder as he stirred the curry, turning the heat knob to low and capping it with a pan lid. “What?”</p><p>“Can I—can I ask why you just disappeared on me? Four years ago, you just… I didn’t hear from you for so long, Wooyoung. I was so worried about you. I even went to your old house to check on you after a while, but there was a for sale sign on the lawn, and it was empty. You deactivated your Facebook. I had no idea if you were dead, or—and then you show up so many years later telling me you tried to kill yourself—Wooyoung, what happened?”</p><p>Wooyoung leaned up against the counter, dropping his gaze to the floor. “I—” he gulped. He wasn’t prepared to talk about this today, but he supposed it would have had to come up eventually. “My mom died.”</p><p>Yeosang went pale, his eyes widening in realization. “Oh my god, Wooyoung…”</p><p>“It was sudden. A car accident on her way home from work. I didn’t even see her that morning, she left before I was up and—and then I got the call and I—I’m sorry.”</p><p>“No, Wooyoung, I get it. I just wish I could have been there for you. I know how much your mom… I know how much she meant to you. She was like a second mom to me, too. I’m so sorry, Wooyoung.”</p><p>Wooyoung feigned a gentle smile. “It’s okay. I don’t mind talking about it now, as much as I did back then. I meant to contact you, I swear, I just needed some time. But then… things happened in my life, and it only got worse. It just never felt like the right time. It wasn’t just you. I cut everyone out of my life after that.” </p><p>A timer blared on his phone, and Wooyoung whipped around to take the curry off the heat, thankful for a way out of the conversation so he could have a moment to breathe.</p><p>“Sorry for bringing it up. I didn’t know. I just wish I could have been there for you.”</p><p>“It’s okay. It’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have cut you out without an explanation.”</p><p>Yeosang met his eyes seriously. It felt strange—they’d never been the kind of friends to talk about their feelings with each other. They were the kind of friends who helped each other stay distracted from the stress of everyday life, but not explicitly stating why. “If you ever need anything, I’m here.”</p><p>Wooyoung nodded. “I know. Thank you.”</p><p>They left the conversation there, moving to the couch to eat. Yeosang scarfed it down, but Wooyoung opted to savor his a bit more. This was definitely the best meal he was going to have for a while—at least, until he could convince San about the groceries thing. He had a shiny new credit card after all, thanks to Hongjoong. They directed their conversation towards lighter topics after that.</p><p>Wooyoung whipped his head around to follow the movement in his peripheral, narrowing his eyes at San as he walked across the apartment.</p><p>He raised his palms up defensively. “Chill, I’m just going to the bathroom,” San grumbled, then fixed his eyes on Yeosang, hazarding a quick up-and-down look. “What, not gonna introduce me to your friend?”</p><p>Yeosang raised his hand up casually in a quick wave. “Yeosang.”</p><p>San gave a playful bow. “San. The pleasure is mine.” Then, to Wooyoung. “Ooh, it smells good out here. Can I have some?”</p><p>Wooyoung gave an exaggerated eye-roll, wiggling his fingers in San’s direction to tell him to scram. “No, you can’t. Leave.”</p><p>“Fine, jesus. I was just being nice.” He slipped into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. </p><p>Yeosang brought his voice down to a low hush. “Fuck, Wooyoung? <em> That’s </em> the guy that kidnapped you?” A sly smile crept over his face. </p><p>“What’s that look for?”</p><p>“He’s totally your type.”</p><p>“San? Oh no, no. No<em> fucking </em> way. Even if he <em> was </em>—no. Just no.”</p><p>“I think someone doth protest too much,” Yeosang teased. </p><p>“Shut up,” Wooyoung hissed back, then quickly zipped his lips as San re-emerged to make his way back towards his room, causing Yeosang to suppress a laugh which sputtered out as soon as San’s door slammed behind him. </p><p>
  
</p><p>The minute Yeosang left the apartment, he felt inexplicably empty. His heavy limbs dragged him to the couch, and he collapsed face down, burying it in the cushions, dragging the one blanket San provided him with over his head. </p><p>All the emotions that he’d dredged to the surface during their earlier conversation washed over him like a tsunami. The black storm cloud collected over him, dragging his mind back down into an endless spiral.</p><p>He thought about his mom, he thought about Yeosang, he thought about what an awful fucking friend he was. He thought about the way he decided to end his life before even bothering to contact Yeosang, who was worried sick about him. He guess he just assumed Yeosang had forgotten about him by then.</p><p>Tears welled in his eyes, clouding his vision. He felt like he was suffocating trying to hold it all in—he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d cried. Growing up, he always thought depression meant crying all the time, but what it really meant was growing entirely numb, not being able to feel or think or move from his bed. </p><p>When he was laid off from his job just a few months prior, he lost the will to do anything but lay in bed and stare at a wall. He remembered how his limbs felt like they were made of cement, how his eyes couldn’t focus on anything, how he felt sick when he tried to eat, how he slept either entirely too long or not at all. He remembered how his mind twisted and turned, finding a million different ways to convince him he’d be better off dead. </p><p>He remembered how numb he felt when he heard them slam the eviction notice on his door because he hadn’t paid rent for two months and he didn’t have great credit to begin with. He remembered the indifference he felt as he planned his own death. </p><p>Tears streamed from his face, and he sat up, suddenly feeling as though he couldn’t get enough air through choked sobs. He was sure San could hear him—the apartment was so fucking small that he could hear practically hear San’s breathing from halfway across the apartment and through a wall.</p><p>He did his best to contain his sobs, but they spilled out, tears crashing down to the upholstery and sinking down into the fabric. The more he tried to hold it in the worse they got, until he let go entirely. He must have been crying for over an hour, head buried in the fabric of the couch, body trembling under him from the strain of bawling. His stomach churned nauseously, and his head throbbed. </p><p>He heard the click of a doorknob sound behind him. Fuck. San. He glanced up from the couch, barely meeting San’s eyes with his uncomfortably swollen, puffy ones. </p><p>“Uh… I’m going out to the bar.”</p><p>“O-okay,” Wooyoung choked out, voice betraying him. </p><p>San did a once over at Wooyoung’s condition, but there was no way he hadn’t heard everything from his room already. “Have fun with, uh… that.”</p><p>
  <em> Fucking asshole. </em>
</p><p>Wooyoung turned his body away as San slipped out the front door and latched it behind him. </p><p>He still didn’t feel great, but he’d cried himself absolutely dry, and it had left an empty, nauseous void spinning like a washing machine cycle in his stomach. He had leftover curry he could eat, and he didn’t really have anything better to do. </p><p>San didn’t have wifi, and Wooyoung’s phone data plan had already expired a few days ago—though, thankfully, they didn’t cut his service yet, so he could still text Yeosang if he needed. He didn’t want to burden him anymore than he already had today, though, so he opted to turn on San’s TV, which only had about three channels that weren’t static.</p><p>It was him who had suggested they get some rest before attempting to find the address of the place Hongjoong told them to check out, but he was regretting that now. All he wanted was a distraction that wasn’t some shitty network television program. </p><p>Eventually, he got tired enough to settle in to sleep, belly full of curry, limbs aching and heavy like they were made of lead. He curled up on the couch, squeezing his eyes shut tight, hoping to just end this day already. He almost,<em> just almost </em>, started to fade into the realm of sleep, when the harsh jangling of keys in the lock and footsteps parading into the apartment roused him. A symphony of drunken giggles echoed off the walls. </p><p>That wasn’t just San. There was a distinctly different male voice intermingled with his—though Wooyoung couldn’t make out any words. Dear god, did San bring someone home to fuck? Wooyoung just wanted to<em> sleep </em>.</p><p>Wooyoung shuttered one eye open just enough to notice they didn’t even switch a light on before absconding towards San’s room. He pressed his pillow firmly against his ear, nearly smothering himself with it from how hard he shoved it down over his head, trying to muffle the awful noises coming from San’s room, but it hardly did anything to keep out the low tones and growls he heard rolling through San’s throat from behind the wall—he recognized the noise from their regrettable wine-drunk kiss back at Hongjoong’s when San had pulled him in by the waistband with a hungry growl. </p><p>He shifted uncomfortably, forced to listen to San’s moans and his partner’s cries. Slapping sounds echoed off the walls, followed by harsh cries from the guy he was with. Was he… spanking them? Oh god, Wooyoung didn’t want this visual in his head. </p><p>And worst of all, Wooyoung already felt himself growing hard beneath his blanket. </p><p>It made a disturbing amount of sense that San would be into rough sex—it was clear he had an ego so big he would take the ability to take control anywhere he could find it. Not that Wooyoung had any place to judge—his personal outlet just happened to be on the other end of that spectrum. He always thought that if he'd told a therapist that, they'd probably say it was because of his own internalized self-hatred that he enjoyed being completely dominated during sex, which was one of the many reasons he never visited a therapist. Not that they would have been entirely wrong. </p><p>He’d been sex starved for longer than he could count at this point—not just with others, but from touching himself entirely. Once upon a time, Wooyoung was quite promiscuous—when he got out of highschool, he went completely wild, clubbing almost every night and fucking guys like it was his full time job. But after his mom passed, and his depression set in, he found himself enjoying the act less and less. Eventually, he gave up on hook-ups entirely.</p><p>He hadn’t even masturbated for months. His sex drive had plummeted below zero as his depression sky-rocketed to infinity. Every time he tried touching himself, it only made him feel worse, stirring up his negative emotions so badly that he’d go soft before he could even pull up porn on his phone.</p><p>He cursed under his breath at his dick's less-than-fantastic timing to finally spring to life, but he chalked it up to neglecting himself the release for months. He forgot how much it ached to be so horny. He tossed and turned a bit more, hoping San would just be done already so he could go to sleep. Clearly, he underestimated San’s stamina—and his own cock's, which ached now, distracting him from sleep and refusing to back down.</p><p>Fine. He would just have to take care of it himself—quickly, and then he could sleep. </p><p>He brought his hand down to his cock, pulling the band of his underwear down to release it. He closed his eyes tightly as he closed his grip around it. He did everything he could to keep his mind from wandering to the noises coming from the other side of the wall, but he was already failing miserably. In the absence of porn, all his mind could concentrate on were those goddamn growls ripping through San’s throat, making his mind wander to what San might be like during sex. </p><p>Wooyoung hated himself. He hated his mind for making him think of what San must look like on the other side of the wall, poised over his partner, that lean, muscular chest covered in tattoos. Wooyoung couldn’t stand San—he could barely stand to be in the same room as him—and yet his dick grew harder beneath his touch as his mind, fueled by horny desperation, conjured up images of San’s hand wrapped around Wooyoung’s throat, imagining the kinds of choked noises San could drag out of him. </p><p>
  <em> Fuck.  </em>
</p><p>Wooyoung felt ashamed as he grasped tightly around his cock, pumping his hand up and down, just trying to think about anything except San, who happened to be making that task excessively hard for him. He’d never thought of San sexually before, somehow—even his drunken kiss had been more accidental and impulsive than anything, but he couldn’t deny that imagining he was the one in that bed instead of some stranger from the bar was doing something to him. Yeosang was right, San was his type—but his personality was such a turn off it made Wooyoung detest the thought of touching him. He didn't want to have sex with him, but for some reason that Wooyoung's dick refused to explain, the thought was creating a knot in his stomach that slowly traveled downwards, making his cock throb in his grip. </p><p>He’d watched some pretty depraved porn in his life, and yet this was the most ashamed Wooyoung had ever been while jerking off. He listened to the bed creak in the other room, the headboard slamming against the wall as it did so. He heard San curse and moan in what Wooyoung could only assume was his release—and, almost on cue, Wooyoung followed his lead, letting his own climax build in his core before spilling over. He caught some of the cum in his own palm, trying not to let it spill over on the blanket San gave him, because he wouldn’t really know how to explain that.</p><p>He slinked to the bathroom quietly to clean himself off, trying not to alert San, but it was too late. He heard the shuffling of feet past the bathroom door and the loud sound of the front door slamming closed—San kicked them out already? Brutal. It made sense, though. San clearly wasn’t the type to let his hook-up stay the night. Wooyoung slowly emerged from the bathroom after cleaning himself off, dressed in only his underwear and a slightly oversized t-shirt from the duffel bag Yeosang brought. </p><p>Wooyoung's eyes came up to see San standing in front of the bathroom doorway with an amused smirk, carding a hand through his own hair, which fell over his eyes more than usual. He was half-naked, dressed only in a pair of underwear, which showed off far too much of his body. He didn’t seem phased at all, however, by his own lack of decency.</p><p>“Oh, you’re awake," he cooed. "So, how much of that did you hear, hmm?”</p><p>Wooyoung pulled his eyes back down. “I just woke up,” he muttered, feigning sleepiness in his voice. “Just had to pee. Going back to bed. Goodnight.”</p><p>He slipped past San, keeping his eyes down. He was probably being more suspicious by not staring, but if he couldn’t look at him before, it was even worse now. </p><p>He collapsed back on the couch finally, enjoying the silence when he closed his eyes and letting the exhaustion overtake his body. But as he fell into the comfortable embrace of sleep, he couldn’t shake the image of San from his mind, no matter how hard he tried.  </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. tempus edax rerum</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p>“Are you sure this is it?”<br/><br/>Wooyoung glanced down at the slip of paper where Hongjoong had scribbled down the address, then back up at the building in front of him.</p><p>“Well, the address is one number off from the—”</p><p>“But I don’t see any other—oh...”</p><p>Wooyoung’s gaze drifted downwards to a vintage-looking door with a frosted glass pane in the middle. It was stained a deep cherry-brown, punctuated on both ends by mystic carvings. It was underground, offset to the left of the building’s main entrance, down a steep flight of concrete steps.</p><p>They had spent the weekend relaxing before deciding to follow Hongjoong’s lead to the place that had helped break his seals over a hundred years ago. After a few days of puttering around at San’s place, Wooyoung was practically salivating at the idea of getting some fresh air—and hopefully being one step closer to breaking away from San’s hell.</p><p>He descended the stairs with San in tow. The sign above the door read <em> Mystic Arcanum </em>. Wooyoung reached his hand for the golden doorknob, which was etched with an ornate detailing of mysterious symbols.  If they were really helping immortal beings out of here, they weren’t doing a very discreet job of it—Wooyoung felt like he was about to be transported to Hogwarts. </p><p>He pushed through the door cautiously, and it immediately alerted its inhabitants of their arrival with the delicate chime of a bell. The smell hit him first—an anything-but-subtle smack in the face of incense burning Wooyoung’s nostrils. </p><p>“Jesus, was there an explosion?” San gritted under his breath. “It reeks in here.”</p><p>For once, Wooyoung agreed with San on something. The shop was small, but they didn’t spare any inch of space. Overflowing shelves of crystals and other mystical objects climbed up the walls up to the ceiling. Vials of assorted-color sparkling liquids lined the edges of table displays, which were crammed together so tightly he couldn’t imagine how anyone walked in the place. Wooyoung felt like if he took one single step he would send glass crashing down somewhere. </p><p>The wistful interior was lit almost entirely by candlelight, but also by a variety of intricately designed lamps. The entire place was dark but enchanting, thanks to the dark-stained wood lining the walls. Colorful blown glass hung from the ceiling, adding to the claustrophobia. To the right of the entrance, an assortment of what looked like witchcraft paraphernalia—not that that was Wooyoung’s area of expertise. </p><p>“Welcome in!” A young man, maybe only a year younger than Wooyoung’s age, slipped out from behind the counter at the back of the store to greet them. “What denomination are you? We have crystals, chakras, herbs on the back wall. If you’re wiccan, we—”</p><p>“Oh, no, no,” San said quickly. “No, we’re uh… Hongjoong sent us?”</p><p>The man cocked his head to the side slightly. Wooyoung glanced at his nametag, which read <em> Jongho.  </em></p><p>“The Pirate,” Wooyoung cut in.  </p><p>The shop clerk’s eyes widened in realization. “Oooh… you’re gonna want to head to the back.”</p><p>“The back?” Wooyoung asked</p><p>Jongho gestured to a large cherry-wood door behind the counter—a lot like the one at the entrance, but less mystical. “You can head through that door. Yunho will help you back there.”</p><p>Wooyoung carefully weaved through tables of delicate glass bottles, suspicious looking vials, baskets of shiny rocks, and lit candles—which had to be some sort of fire code violation—until he reached the backdoor. </p><p>He wasn’t sure what to expect when he swung it open, but it certainly wasn’t the conspiracy-theorist shoe-closet he stepped into. A man sat at a small ancient-looking wooden desk in the corner, barely deep enough to allow his long legs enough room, so he sat with his legs straddled open, knees kissing the legs of the desk. He was hunched over an old-looking notebook, scribbling ferociously on the parchment. </p><p>But Wooyoung’s eyes were immediately drawn upwards to the walls, which were collaged with an array of neatly ink-drawn symbols and what looked to be words in mysterious, unrecognizable hieroglyphs. Intricate math equations were scribbled in red ink across the papers, which fluttered from the wind Wooyoung created by opening the door.</p><p>The brown-haired man at the desk—Yunho, as Jongho had informed them—raised his eyes to Wooyoung before springing from his stool to greet them. He beamed from head to toe, an inviting, almost puppy-like expression painting his face. “Ah, come in, come in! You can close the door behind you. I’m assuming Jongho sent you back here?” He messily shoved the disjointed stack of papers to the side of his desk. “Gosh, sorry for the mess, I don’t get many guests back here, if any! Man, actually, I can’t remember the last time—aw, jeez, I only have one extra stool—sorry I can—Oh, by the way, I’m Yunho!”</p><p><em> This </em>was the guy Hongjoong sent them to? He was a scatter-brained mess. He seemed young—possibly Wooyoung’s age—and if Wooyoung hadn’t suddenly been thrust into the world of immortals and time magic, he’d think this guy went off the deep-end. </p><p>“That’s alright,” Wooyoung cut in. “I don’t need to sit. San’s the one who needs your help.”</p><p>Yunho’s eyes drifted to San, who closed the door behind Wooyoung. It was apparent how small the room was with the door closed—they were crammed in. It was probably no bigger than a janitor’s closet. </p><p>San took a seat on the stool in front of Yunho, who had swiveled around on his own to face away from his desk. “Hongjoong—sorry, the Pirate—said you might be able to help break my seals.”</p><p>“The <em> Pirate </em>?” Yunho uttered, eyes widening. “You—you met him?”</p><p>San nodded, brushing off Yunho’s excited smile. “So, can you help us, or not?”</p><p>“Of course,” He gestured around to the drawings of alchemy symbols scribbled over the walls. “I’ve spent my whole life preparing for this.”</p><p>San clicked his tongue against his teeth. “So you’ve never actually broken any yourself, then?”</p><p>Yunho’s hand rubbed the back of his neck, an abased smile replacing his previous excited grin. “Well, no… I’ve dedicated my whole life to the study of these seals, but I’ve never actually seen any in person before.”</p><p>“Well, that’s just great,” San grumbled under his breath. </p><p>“Don’t underestimate me,” Yunho said seriously. “My grandfather taught me well. And his father before that taught him, and his father before him. It’s a family business.”</p><p>“Can you really make money doing this sort of thing?” Wooyoung asked quietly, though it was more of an internal thought than anything. It just slipped out. “I mean—sorry, that’s probably not appropriate to ask.”</p><p>“No, no, it’s okay,” Yunho said with a casual wave of his hand. “To be honest, not really. That’s why we run the store up front. It brings in the money so I can focus on my craft.”</p><p>“So… what is it that you study, exactly?”</p><p>“Some might call it alchemy. Others, magic. Others… well, they think I’m crazy for studying something that they don’t believe exists. I suppose I had no proof that it did either. Up until now, at least.”</p><p>“You’ve spent your whole life on the study of something you’ve never even seen for yourself?” Wooyoung asked. </p><p>“Not until now. I suppose I should be more excited that I finally get to apply my life’s work, but I don’t think my brain’s caught up to reality yet,” Yunho chuckled, then focused back to San. “So, these seals of yours. Can I see them?”</p><p>San nodded, reading for the buttons of his neatly-fitted black dress shirt. He undid one at a time, almost sickeningly slow, like he was<em> trying </em> to tease Wooyoung. Or at least it felt that way now that Wooyoung was acutely aware of San’s every subtly flirtatious move. Wooyoung’s discomfort was palpable in the air as he shifted on his heels. Once all the buttons were done, San tugged at each side, letting the shirt fall off his broad shoulders, then bunch at his wrists before sliding to the floor.</p><p>Yunho retrieved a thin-framed pair of glasses from his desk, slipping them on before leaning in to examine the tattoos closely. San’s skin glimmered lightly with the beginnings of sweat, and the scattered candlelight that illuminated the room reflected harsh shadows around the lines of his muscles. He internally cursed Yeosang for bringing up the fact that San was his type, because he couldn’t get his mind to stop wandering to how he might have viewed San if he’d met him under different circumstances.  Maybe, just <em> maybe </em>, he would have thought San was attractive then. </p><p>Wooyoung shifted his gaze to the wall, doing his best to avoid staring at San’s exposed chest for more than a few seconds, but it was also in his interest to know what Yunho was doing. He watched as Yunho propped the old notepad on his knee, sketching out the symbols in every intricate detail. His lines were effortlessly clean, and Wooyoung had a flashback to trying to draw out his hand sigil to Yeosang. This guy clearly knew exactly what he was doing—just a glance at the collaged walls around him was enough to see that. </p><p>“How long do you think it’ll take you to break them?” Wooyoung asked. “The seals, I mean.”</p><p>“I’m not sure. These next two should be easy. I’d say I could crack them each in a few weeks. The fourth and fifth… they may take a bit longer. The sixth…” He pointed to San’s lower left bicep. “Well, I’m not sure. It could be months, even years. Each seal holds in a bigger chunk of San’s power. At least, if they follow the same pattern of the ones in my great-great-grandfather’s research.”</p><p><em> Years? </em>No, no. That wasn’t going to work. Hongjoong hadn’t given them a time frame, but he clearly indicated they were looking at a short window of time before Wooyoung’s mind started melting from the strain of the powers. </p><p>“Is there a way to speed it up?’ Wooyoung asked, trying to disguise the creeping feeling of panic in his voice.</p><p>Yunho shook his head <em> no, </em> keeping his eyes locked between his paper and the symbols as he sketched. “Unfortunately, I don’t think so.” Yunho tapped lightly against San’s already-broken seal. “I’m assuming it took you a while to break this first one, right?” </p><p>San nodded. “Yeah. 112 years, to be exact.” </p><p>“Right. They make these things hard to crack for a reason, and I hate to tell you, but the first is the easiest. You’re lucky you found me when you did, because it probably would have taken you at least 200 for the next one.” </p><p>“And you can do it in a few weeks?” Wooyoung questioned skeptically. </p><p>“I think so. And I hate to bring this up, but I can’t exactly do this for free. I have to keep this shop afloat somehow.”</p><p>San gritted his teeth together, puffing out an exasperated hiss of air, but Wooyoung cut in next to him before he could say something rude. “Do you take card?”</p><p>Yunho nodded. “You can swipe it with Jongho next time you come in. I’ll assess the workload and have an estimate for the invoice as soon as I crack this second seal.” He pushed himself away from San, tossing the parchment sketchpad back on his small desk. “Okay, we should be done here for today. If you give me your number, I can call you when I have something. You’ll have to come back in so I can walk you through breaking it.” </p><p>“I don’t have a phone,” San announced casually.</p><p>Wooyoung blinked wide-eyed at San, stunned that he didn’t know that. “You don’t have a<em> cell phone </em>?”</p><p>San shrugged. “I came here in 1902. I got along for 70 years without one. I have no use for it.”</p><p>Probably also explained why he didn’t have wi-fi. </p><p>“Okay, Grandpa,” Wooyoung mocked, then turned back to Yunho. “I have one. I can write down my number for you. Feel free to call or text any time if you have any new information.”</p><p>He exchanged information with Yunho while San buttoned his shirt back up, and Wooyoung felt like he could finally breathe again with San fully clothed. They exited back out to the shop, and Wooyoung felt again like he’d just been transported to a magic parallel universe where fairies existed or something. Hell, Wooyoung didn’t even know <em> what </em>existed anymore. </p><p>
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</p><p>It only took Yunho a week and a half to break San’s second seal. It was a relatively painless process, aside from the exorbitant bill that came along with it. They would have been absolutely screwed had Hongjoong not given them that credit card, which Wooyoung felt only marginally guilty for using, considering Hongjoong probably had some bank worker as his mind-control money slave making sure he had funds for life. </p><p>Wooyoung spent most of that week relaxing at home, while San lived his life as Wooyoung assumed he had since before they met: sleeping away his hangovers during the day, then drinking and fucking at night. Wooyoung set down a few ground rules, such as no bringing over fuck buddies at night. If San wanted to continue his nymphomaniac sex-spree, he’d have to find elsewhere to do it. San didn’t seem to mind the stipulation if it meant Wooyoung would shut up about it, aside from a few disgruntled comments here and there.</p><p>Wooyoung spent a lot of time with Yeosang. San still didn’t trust him enough to let him go to Yeosang’s, but he convinced him to let Yeosang come over every so often under the condition that Wooyoung cooked him meals, to which Wooyoung reluctantly agreed. He was glad to at least have a friend he could count on now to take some of the stress out of his current situation—and restore a sense of normalcy. </p><p>Three weeks after breaking the second seal, Yunho called with a lead on the third seal. He’d said the first few seals would be the easiest to break, but the time crept up on Wooyoung faster than he expected it to.</p><p>Even so, Wooyoung’s back was starting to ache from San’s shitty couch, and his patience for San was growing thin—especially when he was required to accompany him on every possible outing. The only time San trusted Wooyoung to be alone was when he was headed to the bar, and even then it was in his own self-interest. </p><p>San beamed after leaving Yunho’s shop, third seal freshly broken. He stood taller now, as if life had been reinvigorated in him, but Wooyoung couldn’t feel much difference in his own body. He still didn’t have the whole freezing-time thing under control, although San had attempted to teach him how to harness his powers a few times, it turned out San was a shitty teacher. It ended in a fight, and they never really talked about it again, but it didn’t stop Wooyoung from occasionally trying to freeze time while doing mundane things around the apartment, without much fruition. </p><p>“So, what did the third seal unlock? Something big, it seems like? You look… uncharacteristically happy,” Wooyoung asked suspiciously as they made their way up the stairs from<em> Mystic Arcanum </em>.</p><p>San patted at his dress shirt under his suit jacket, straightening out the wrinkles proudly. “Time travel, I think. Not that I’m going to use that shit. I’m happy because the more seals Yunho breaks, the less fucking exhausted I feel all the time.”</p><p>Wooyoung’s eyes widened, stopping in his tracks for a minute on the sidewalk. “Time travel? Isn’t that kind of huge?”</p><p>San shrugged. “Sure it is, but there’s no way in hell I’m messing with that. It’s way too risky.” </p><p>“Wasn’t it you who said you didn’t have any obligations to follow human rules?”</p><p>“It’s not just a human rule. It’s a coalition rule. If they see I’m messing with time travel, they’ll send even more of their guys after me than there already are. And trust me, I have enough of those assholes. Plus, my life’s already hard enough as it is without time paradoxes creating two of me, or whatever. Besides, I don't think the powers would be stable enough yet to work right. I’m just happy I have some of my energy back now.”</p><p>Wooyoung went silent. The idea of time travel was both intriguing and terrifying to him, and it was probably best that San had at least enough of a moral compass to not fuck with the timeline on earth, for everyone’s sake. Although his reasoning felt more selfish than anything. </p><p>“Energy? You sleep all fucking day,” Wooyoung grumbled through his teeth. He was starting to feel seriously pissy from being stuck around San all day. He wasn’t exactly a <em> model </em>roommate.</p><p>“And what do you do?” San retorted.</p><p>“At least I cook you food. You’d starve without me.”</p><p>“I was doing just fine before you, thanks.”</p><p>Wooyoung scoffed. “What, dine-and-dashing from every restaurant in a 30-mile radius? You would have run out of places to be banned from, eventually.”</p><p>“Historically, I would have moved before that happened.”</p><p>“Right,” Wooyoung quipped sarcastically. </p><p>San stuck his hand out toward Wooyoung, palm open expectantly, sigil glowing on full display. “Well, I’m going to the bar. Celebrating the breaking of my seal tonight.” <em> Like he needed an excuse to drink. </em>“Can I have Hongjoong’s card?” </p><p>Wooyoung was in a particularly bad mood, and a drink actually sounded kind of incredible. Usually, he would have left San in a heartbeat to go crash on the couch, but getting out of the apartment for more than just a run to Yunho’s store seemed appealing now.</p><p>Wooyoung dug in his wallet, procuring the credit card and offering it in San’s direction. “Fine, but only if I can tag along.”</p><p>San rolled his eyes, snatching the card from between Wooyoung’s fingers. “Alright, whatever. Just don’t cockblock me, alright, human? And try to keep that mouth shut. You’re incessant when you’re drunk.”</p><p>Wooyoung seethed, but his desire for a drink right now was just slightly higher than his hatred of San. Besides, save for that night at Hongjoong’s, they seemed to get along a bit better when Wooyoung had a few drinks in him. Maybe that was the key to making San tolerable. </p><p>Plus, Wooyoung had dressed up nicely today. He remembered he used to always feel his best when he put effort into his appearance back in high school, and especially back during his clubbing days. After falling into his depression, he had switched out his fashionable attire for the same two hoodies in constant rotation. </p><p>Today, though, he decided to try on some of the nicer clothes he’d acquired from the duffle bag, though the bar for ‘nice’ was fairly low. While digging through the clothes, he’d also found a small pouch with some of his old makeup, including a small eyeliner pencil that was nearly shaved down to nothing. He remembered the confidence it used to give him when he wore it back in his prime, so he tried it out before leaving for Yunho's. San gave him a bit of a hard time for it when he saw him, but Wooyoung didn’t care what San thought. </p><p>He figured he might as well not let all that effort go to waste on just going home tonight.</p><p>“We’ll go to my favorite bar this time,” San said with a wink. “It’s not far. We can walk.”</p><p>The place looked familiar as soon as they approached it from the street, and Wooyoung instantly remembered why—it was the same shithole he’d found San in the first time he’d followed his sigil: <em> The Black Cat Bar </em>. </p><p>“<em>This </em>is your favorite bar?” Wooyoung grumbled. </p><p>“It holds nostalgia, and such,” San responded dismissively. “Didn’t I tell you to shut up?”</p><p>“Chill, we just got here. Trust me, I’m not here to hang out with you.” He locked eyes with the bartender from across the room, quickly abandoning San. “I’m getting a drink.”</p><p>Wooyoung spent the night sipping his rum and coke slowly, letting himself get lost in his own thoughts—something the Wooyoung one month ago would have never done in a million years. His old thoughts were constantly riddled with negativity, but his new thoughts were surprisingly mild. He hadn’t completely shaken the grips of his depression, not by a long shot, but for the first time in a while, he wasn’t completely consumed with thoughts of dying. Perhaps it was because his own death was currently off the table. Either way, it was refreshing.</p><p>He’d lost track of San, who was off flirting with everything with a pulse. His mind had wandered entirely out of this plane of reality when a loud crash sent him plummeting back to earth. He whipped his head around to see San, dangerously close to a man who looked like he was about to rip San’s head off his body—and like he could do it, too. </p><p>“That’s my girlfriend, you fucking asshole!”</p><p>“Well it seemed she was getting pretty cozy with me,” San smirked, eyes growing dark at the much larger man looming over him. “Not my fault you can’t keep your girl reeled in, hmm?”</p><p>The man's fists clenched at his side. God, San couldn’t just go one second without causing trouble, could he? This was going to be bad. Normally, Wooyoung would have fled the second he caught wind of a bar fight, but it wouldn’t have been good if San ended up getting arrested, or having a warrant out on him for assault. They needed to stay in the area so they could stick around Yunho.</p><p>He glanced at the bartender, whose facial expression denoted that this was clearly above his pay grade. This place was so trashy it probably had fights breaking out every day. He’d have to take it into his own hands if he wanted to stop San from fucking it up for both of them.</p><p>Wooyoung stood up from his chair, shoving it to the side. The legs screeched harshly against the floorboards. “Hey, hey,” Wooyoung called as he approached, hands raised non-threateningly. “Can we just calm down? Look, my friend here is drunk. He didn’t know that was your—”</p><p>The man let out a wild laugh, beaming mockingly from ear to ear. “What, this sissy brat gonna protect you? What’s with the eyeliner, huh, pretty boy?” The man taunted. Wooyoung could smell the thick stench of beer wafting off his breath, even from a few paces away. He was obviously completely wasted, but that didn’t make it any better. </p><p>The man stepped forward offensively toward Wooyoung, hocking up a ball of spit on the floor in front of him. “You some sort of fag?”</p><p>Oh that was<em> fucking </em> it.</p><p>San’s eyes widened at Wooyoung’s side, and he stepped in quickly. “Hey, whoa, sorry man. Look, I take it back. I didn’t realize this was your girlfriend—”</p><p>The burly man shoved him away, sending San stumbling backwards. Wooyoung wished San would do something—anything—else, but him using his powers in such a public place probably wasn’t a good move.  </p><p>“I bet you couldn’t even hit me if you wanted, you fucking fag,” he taunted.</p><p>Wooyoung seethed, his vision going a bright shade of crimson. The man's words immediately transported him back to the bullies in high school who had shoved him around in the bathroom for wearing a smudge of eyeliner and a silver dangling earring. He felt the shame, the embarrassment, and the anger flood back in all at once. This was the kind of provocation Wooyoung couldn’t let go. </p><p>Wooyoung lurched towards the man, swinging his first through the air, but San caught him from behind, his chest pressing tightly against Wooyoung to hold him back. “Wooyoung, stop. Chill, please. He's not worth it,” San soothed in his ear, but his voice was dark . </p><p>Wooyoung thrashed against him, watching the man’s expression as he stared at him tauntingly, that stupid fucking grin on his face, looking down on him like his high school bullies. He wanted to rip that smile off his face, he wanted to—</p><p>San pulled him in tighter as he flailed, squeezing his arms around Wooyoung’s chest, but Wooyoung didn’t let go. </p><p>“Get off me!” Wooyoung yelled, a growl ripping through his throat. “Fuck you!” </p><p>He clawed at San’s hands, shoving him off with a violent twist of his shoulder, then scrambled forward, reeling his fist up for a punch again. </p><p>Electricity shocked through his spine, jolting through his limbs and setting his chest on fire. He lurched forward over his stomach, and the world seemed to warp dizzingly around him. Wooyoung glanced up as soon as the world stopped spinning, the pain in his limbs dissolving as quickly as it had appeared. </p><p>
  <em> San. </em>
</p><p><em>Was</em> that San? </p><p>He'd recognize that face anywhere: cat like eyes, sharp jaw, that blonde streak in his striking black hair. But something was off. Actually, just about everything was off. </p><p>Was he dreaming? Did that guy knock him unconscious? Why was San sitting at the bar? Just a minute ago, Wooyoung had thrown San off him in a violent rage. </p><p>"Wow, shit, I must be drunker than I thought. I could have sworn you weren't there a second ago," San chuckled.</p><p>Wooyoung blinked quietly, looking around for the remnants of the fight, but the bar was surprisingly clean. In fact, it looked nothing like it did just seconds ago. It looked strangely… pristine. Nice, even. There was no way this was the same run-down shithole he’d just been in.</p><p>“Is this—is this The Black Cat?” Wooyoung asked slowly as he tried to absorb the surroundings. </p><p>“Shit, you must be as drunk as me,” San chuckled. What the hell was he wearing, anyway? He was dressed in an ugly terra-cotta brown suit, something the San he knew wouldn't be caught dead wearing. “Not even knowing what bar you walked into... the nicest one in town, too.”</p><p>Wooyoung’s breath caught in his throat. </p><p>This was The Black Cat, and this was San, but this wasn’t where he just was. His eyes scanned the walls for any indication, but he wasn’t dumb. </p><p>“Can I ask a stupid question?”</p><p>“What, dumber than asking what bar you’re in? Go for it.”</p><p>“What… year is it?”</p><p>He didn’t even have to ask. He knew the answer didn’t start with a twenty. </p><p>“Damn, you <em> are </em> drunk.” San smirked in amusement, patting the bar stool next to him. “Sit down, kid. It’s ‘76.”</p>
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<a name="section0010"><h2>10. tempus rerum imperator</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
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<p>“What… year is it?”</p>
<p>He didn’t even have to ask. He knew the answer didn’t start with a twenty. </p>
<p>“Damn, you <em> are </em> drunk.” San smirked in amusement, patting the bar stool next to him. “Sit down, kid. It’s ‘76.”</p>
<p>Wooyoung did his best to conceal the look of horror that dawned on his face, which he was sure turned his complexion ghostly pale. It really didn’t matter though—the drunken drawl in San’s voice immediately tipped Wooyoung off that there was no way he was remembering any of this by the end of the night. He might as well stick the night out at the bar while he figured out what to do next.</p>
<p>“Asking what year it is… What, you from the<em> future </em>?” San wiggled his fingers dramatically. Wooyoung’s breath would have caught in his throat if he didn’t know how drunk San was. San broke into a wild laugh. “Kidding. You sure look like it though. That outfit is… uh… flamboyant.”</p>
<p>Oh,<em> Wooyoung </em>was the flamboyant one? </p>
<p>“You should see yourself,” Wooyoung muttered under his breath, not loud enough for San to hear. He glanced down at his outfit, realizing how out of place he looked. His black skinny jeans were more than enough to seal the I’m-from-the-future look, but it wasn’t like he had anything to change into.</p>
<p>“I’m—uh—I’m a model. It’s an experimental look.” </p>
<p><em> That </em>was the best he could come up with?</p>
<p>San seemed to not question it, nodding as if anything he said had made sense. “Well, you’re cute enough for it. Kinda my type, actually,” San cooed drunkenly, leaning into Wooyoung.</p>
<p>“Oh, thanks, but uh… I don’t swing that way, sorry,” Wooyoung lied.</p>
<p>San raised his eyebrows, then looked away. “Hm. Wouldn’t have guessed.” He glanced up to the bartender sliding him another drink, then back at Wooyoung. “Well, can I buy you a drink anyway?” </p>
<p>Wooyoung nodded. “Yeah, sure. Just order me whatever.” After all San had put him through, he at least owed him a drink. </p>
<p>Though, he supposed<em> this </em> San hadn’t done anything wrong yet. In fact, <em> this </em>San was actually surprisingly mild compared to what he was used to. He was surprisingly nice, albeit disgustingly drunk. </p>
<p>Why was San here anyway? It was too much of a coincidence that he happened to jump to the exact date in time that San had been here before—his best guess was that it had something to do with the sigil jumping to a time that San had been in the same bar in the past. After all, Wooyoung had no control over his powers—they called the shots, Wooyoung just followed. </p>
<p>He sensed a pattern in the way he activated his powers. It was always when his emotions were at their highest peak—when he was smashing dishes in his apartment, when he was fighting in the alley with San, when he was screaming at the man in the bar.</p>
<p>Wooyoung realized he had spaced off for quite a while, letting his thoughts drown out the Bee Gees album that was playing over the jukebox speakers. </p>
<p>“So… do you live around here?” Wooyoung probed. San had indicated that he recently moved to the area, so why would he have been here in the 70s?</p>
<p>“Oh, no. No. I never stay in one place too long,” San muttered, taking a swig of what looked like whiskey in his glass, then motioning to the bartender to refill it.</p>
<p>Wooyoung quickly identified his opportunity to ask San questions, now that he was a bit more open—and a lot more drunk. “You travel for work then?”</p>
<p>“You could say that. More like hop from city to city doing odd jobs here and there. No strings, no responsibilities,” he gave a tipsy grin, taking another sip from his glass. Wooyoung had half the mind to cut him off there, before realizing he was only a stranger to the San that was next to him.</p>
<p>Right. San hadn’t broken his first seal until nearly 40 years after now, meaning he couldn’t just use his time powers to steal to get by. He actually had to work if he wanted to survive. </p>
<p>“I mean, it’s not all fun in games, but I do get to meet a lot of pretty new faces,” San continued, hazarding an embarrassingly flirty wink in Wooyoung’s direction. </p>
<p>Wooyoung sipped at the drink San ordered him—a Moscow Mule—as they talked. San slowly deteriorated beside him as the night progressed, plunging into a drunken haze. </p>
<p>They drank and talked aimlessly until the bartender gave Wooyoung the side eye, glancing up to the clock on the wall behind him indicating it was already 3am. Holy shit, how did time pass so fast? It was a rare occasion when he could carry a conversation with San for more than ten minutes at a time. </p>
<p>San was practically doubled over, head resting down on the bar, mumbling drunken sweet-nothings at the air. Wooyoung shook San’s shoulder, and he grumbled in protest.</p>
<p>“Hey—hey, man. The bar is closing. We need to go.”</p>
<p>“Don’t… don’ have ‘nywhere to go…” San mumbled.  </p>
<p><em> Didn’t have anywhere to go?  </em>Was San homeless? Wooyoung supposed he was right now, too. The bartender grumbled, insisting he needed to shut the place down. </p>
<p>“Come on, we can’t stay here,” Wooyoung persisted, until San finally pushed himself off the counter, eyes tired and hooded. Wooyoung couldn’t believe he was thinking this, but he kind of felt bad for him. </p>
<p>“Fiiiine,” San grumbled in a drunken drawl. He stood up from the bar, retrieving his jacket from the back of the bar stool. San’s knees were wobbly as he found his footing, balance faltering, and Wooyoung instinctively brought his hands to San’s waist to support him. Normally, he’d detest the thought of touching San, but this wasn’t <em> San. </em>Not the one he knew. Not yet.</p>
<p>San eventually found his balance enough to be able to stumble his way out on the bar and to the street with Wooyoung in tow, half-spotting him to make sure he didn’t fall on his ass. He felt like San’s babysitter—which wasn’t far off from his life in the future, he supposed. </p>
<p>Surprisingly, it didn’t look much different outside than Wooyoung remembered, especially this late at night. The night was eerily still, lit dimly by barely-flickering street lamps. San seemed to regain a semblance of consciousness, glancing around at his surroundings as if trying to figure out which way to go. </p>
<p>“You really don’t have anywhere to stay?” Wooyoung asked, partly hoping that if he did, Wooyoung might be able to crash there for the night too. </p>
<p>San shook his head adamantly. “Nope. Noooowhere,” he slurred. </p>
<p>
  <em> Shit.   </em>
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<p>“Oh, fuck,” San hissed, straightening up. He suddenly seemed a lot more sober. “It’s them, we gotta run!” <em>Them? </em> The coalition? No, San didn’t have his powers yet. “Fuck man, run! Fucking cops!” </p>
<p>San grabbed Wooyoung by the arm, tugging him suddenly as he stumbled forward on the concrete. Something about this seemed all-too-familiar. The weight of gravity pulled on Wooyoung’s limbs as he did his best to run through his own drunkenness, but he felt like he was going to trip and wipe out on the concrete at any second. </p>
<p>They rounded a corner to a small park, which offered enough tree cover for San to stop running. Wooyoung slumped over, panting as he caught his breath.</p>
<p>“W-Why are you so worried about cops?” Wooyoung asked breathlessly.</p>
<p>“They don’t really like me around here,” San said, voice slow and slurred. He dropped down on a nearby bench with the force of his entire body. “They know my face. Hungry so… I steal food. I’m banned from all the restaurants ‘round here.”</p>
<p>“Why do you spend all your money on booze if you’re hungry all the time?” Wooyoung asked under his breath, but it was loud enough for San to register it.</p>
<p>San released a sloppy chuckle as he wrapped his jacket over the front of his torso, folding his arms inside of it cozying into it like a small blanket.. “I guess, starving beats what’s going on in my head, y’know? Fuck, I’m exhausted.”</p>
<p>
  <em> Jesus Christ.  </em>
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<p>Did San really live like this for over 100 years before he broke his first seal? Constantly hungry, drinking his feelings, and always moving from place to place?</p>
<p>Not that this excused any of San’s behavior, but Wooyoung certainly understood more about him now. He would be as cynical as San too if he was cursed to live like this for so many years. Worse than that, this San had no idea there was anything else out there for him—he couldn’t have possibly known he would end up breaking his seals 40 years later. </p>
<p>A part of Wooyoung wanted to tell him. He wanted to give him some hint on how to find the place they’d found Yunho, some hint on how to break his seals earlier so he wasn’t living like this for 40 more years. But a bigger part of him knew that wasn’t possible. San had already given him a strict warning against messing with the future. In fact, he’d probably gone too far, already, just by interacting with past San.</p>
<p>Wooyoung took a seat next to him on the bench, but San was already pulling in and out of consciousness at his side, head bobbing downwards several times then shaking him back to the waking world. His head lulled again, this time pulling to the side until it rested on Wooyoung’s shoulder. He felt San’s hair press against his neck, nuzzling into him like a pillow.</p>
<p>Wooyoung stayed frozen like a deer in headlights for a few moments before slowly sliding his body away. He cradled San’s head in his hands to lower it gently to the park bench as he slipped out from underneath him. Wooyoung was tired, but not sleep-on-a-park-bench tired, and it was probably best that San didn’t get a good look at him while sober in the morning. It was already 3am when he left the bar, so it wouldn’t be long until sunrise. </p>
<p>He wandered idly around the park San had led him too, then ventured out towards the city streets, doing his best not to seem suspicious for being up so early. He supposed if anyone asked, he could tell them he was going for a morning jog, though his clothes made that excuse a bit suspicious.  </p>
<p>He walked all night. He walked until his thoughts started forming circles, until he somehow ran out of things to think about—or maybe his brain was just short-circuiting from how tired and overwhelmed he was. He walked until he saw the sliver of golden sunlight peeking over the horizon behind tall city buildings, painting the sky in calming shades of orange and crimson, and then he walked a bit more. He’d been walking aimlessly for hours, and he couldn’t even be sure where he was anymore. </p>
<p>What was Wooyoung going to do now? This San couldn’t help him—he didn’t even activate his powers for 40 more years after this point in time, and there was no way Wooyoung was waiting for that. Everyone else Wooyoung knew wasn’t even born—</p>
<p>
  <em> Hongjoong.   </em>
</p>
<p>There was no way for Wooyoung to be sure, but it was possible that Hongjoong had already acquired his mansion by the 70’s. If he could find Hongjoong, maybe he’d have some answers </p>
<p>Getting out to his place was going to be hell without a car, but what choice did he have? If he wanted to get to Hongjoong’s, which was out in the middle of nowhere, he’d have no choice but to find someone who was willing to give him a ride in the direction—in other words, he’d have to hitchhike. He’d only seen it in the movies, but it didn’t seem so hard. Besides, this was the ‘70s. People were friendlier then, right?</p>
<p>Wrong.</p>
<p>Wooyoung must have asked hundreds of people that filtered in and out of the convenience store attached to a nearby gas station over the course of the day, mostly faced by a variety of disgusted looks and passive-aggressive dismissals in return. </p>
<p>He slumped over, burying his head in his hands as he sat on the concrete curb. There were definitely no busses heading that direction, and his only other option would be stealing a car, or walking, which probably would have taken 2 full days, if he could even find a way to walk down the freeway—based solely on the hunch that Hongjoong<em> might </em>be living there in the 70s. Truthfully, Wooyoung didn’t know when he acquired the mansion. He could be chasing this lead nowhere. Plus, he was exhausted. </p>
<p>Just as Wooyoung had given up entirely, internally cursing himself to living homeless in the 70s, he felt a tap on his shoulders. His head shot up, whipping around to a young man, probably no more than a few years older than him, standing behind him, smiling warmly. The friendliness was refreshing. </p>
<p>“I heard you asking a couple if they were headed north out of town, right? I’m going that way, I wouldn’t mind you tagging along if you wanted.”</p>
<p>Oh <em>thank</em> <em>god</em>. </p>
<p>Wooyoung scrambled to his feet, brushing himself off quickly. “A-are you sure? I wouldn’t want to impose—”<em> Lies. </em>“It’s a few hours down the highway, if you’re not going that far I can—”</p>
<p>“Hey, don’t worry about it. I’m taking that road as far as it goes.” </p>
<p>Wooyoung exhaled heavily. Finally,<em> something </em> was going right. He supposed there was a small chance this nice young man was actually a psycho serial killer, but he’d cross that bridge when he got to it. Besides, he was immortal anyway. This was probably the only time he’d actually appreciated that fact.</p>
<p>“I’m Sangyeon<b>,</b> by the way.”</p>
<p>“Wooyoung,” he introduced with a smile.</p>
<p>“Well, if we want to make it before it gets dark, we should get on the road soon. What do you say?” </p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>That was a big fucking hill. </p>
<p>He didn’t want to walk the rest of the way. He especially didn’t want to walk uphill. But, like many other things in his life currently, Wooyoung didn’t have a choice.</p>
<p>Sangyeon had dropped him off at the closest road Wooyoung could remember to Hongjoong’s mansion, but he’d have to navigate the rest of it himself. He was thankful there was still enough daylight left to not get stuck out there in the dark, with wolves, bears, and whatever creatures were hiding in the wilderness around Hongjoong’s place. </p>
<p>He was equally as thankful for the careful attention he paid when driving out here with San the first time—enough to recall the rest of the way on foot. He wasn’t sure exactly how far he’d have to walk, but Hongjoong’s property was unmistakable. He’d know it when he saw it—and if not, he had a date with the bears tonight. </p>
<p>He ascended the hill, navigating the long, winding road one step at a time, pushing through the burn of his thighs and the ache of his throat without the assistance of water. Night began to fall when Wooyoung first saw the glimmer of the golden gate in the distance, and the familiar mansion just beyond it. </p>
<p>He approached apprehensively, feeling like he was trespassing when he slipped past the gate and made his way towards the sprawling estate. He realized now how absolutely fucked he would be if it wasn’t actually Hongjoong’s mansion, but someone else's<b>—</b>they’d probably call the cops on him. He supposed he’d had worse happen recently.</p>
<p>He tested the doorknob with a wiggle before pushing through it, just as San had done when he’d visited before. The large door creaked open, letting him into the large entryway, which looked exactly the same as he’d remembered. It was lit dimly, so he knew the place wasn’t entirely deserted, at least. The place looked just as audaciously gaudy, even in the 70s. </p>
<p>“Hongjoong?” Wooyoung called, letting his voice echo against the lofty acoustics of the walls.</p>
<p>Silence. </p>
<p>“Hongjoong!” he called louder, projecting as loudly as his dehydrated throat would allow. “Hongjooooooong!”</p>
<p>A clatter of footsteps resonated through the halls, sounding from the second floor. A small, icy-haired man appeared over the railing, his face twisting in confusion as he took in Wooyoung, standing meekly at the bottom of his stairwell. A grin twitched up on Wooyoung’s face the second he saw Hongjoong, fuzzy robe and all. </p>
<p>From the look on his face, Wooyoung could tell Hongjoong wasn’t as happy to see him. </p>
<p>“Who the hell are you? How do you know my<b>—</b>”</p>
<p>Wooyoung only beamed with a maniacal, sleep-deprived grin as a rush of relief washed over him. “Long time no see.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. alea iacta est</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p>From the look on his face, Wooyoung could tell Hongjoong wasn’t as happy to see him. </p><p>“Who the hell are you? How do you know my<b>—</b>”</p><p>Wooyoung only beamed with a maniacal, sleep-deprived grin as a rush of relief washed over him. “Long time no see.”</p><p>Hongjoong descended the stairs quickly, letting his slippers slap loudly against the marble steps. “What do you<b>—</b>How’d you get in here? How’d you find this place?”</p><p>Wooyoung wasn’t exactly sure how to jump into those answers, but he couldn’t help the visceral joy that spilled out of him. “Just—Hongjoong, wait. You have no clue how happy I am to see you.” </p><p>Wooyoung pulled him in for a hug, wrapping his arms around Hongjoong’s small shoulders. He squeezed tightly, and he felt Hongjoong tense under the sudden unexpected contact, fumbling his hands around awkwardly in Wooyoung’s embrace. As he hugged Hongjoong, the exhaustion hit him like a ton of bricks. His limbs felt like lead and he realized how much he was panting from the trek to his mansion. </p><p>Hongjoong wriggled out of his grip, his face twisting as he examined Wooyoung’s features. “What—how do you know my name, anyway? You don’t exactly look like a member of the—”</p><p>“Coalition?” Wooyoung cut in quickly. “I’m not.” </p><p>Hongjoong stayed silent, staring at Wooyoung with a dazed look. Wooyoung had explained his situation so many times, he barely wanted to get into it. </p><p>“Wait, where’s Seonghwa?” Wooyoung muttered, letting his eyes wander across the place. He had hardly seen Hongjoong without Seonghwa right at his side, keeping his arm around Hongjoong protectively. Seonghwa was human, meaning… Wooyoung’s eyes widened, realizing what he’d said. “Oh shit, right. I’m sorry. Seonghwa isn’t even—”</p><p>“Seong...hwa?” Hongjoong cocked his head to the side. </p><p>Wooyoung chuckled nervously. He should have been more careful about revealing hints about the future. San’s warning about the messy nature of time travel nagged at the back of his mind. “I suppose you’ll see in the future. And I should probably explain why I know your name. We know each other, but… you haven’t met me yet. Well, actually, I guess you knew me before I knew you—or before I <em> knew </em>I knew you—god, this time travel thing is confusing.”</p><p>“Time travel? So… you’re one of us? I sensed something when you passed through the gate, but your energy isn’t very strong. How did you get in here anyway? This whole place is— ”</p><p>“Warded? I know. I’m human but... I’ve just, uh, stumbled across some magic, so to speak. It’s a lot to explain. You don’t really need the specifics—not yet, at least. You’ve already helped us with that. I just really need to find a way back to my own time period. And to San.”</p><p>Hongjoong held up a finger, gesturing for Wooyoung to pause. “You’re gonna have to remember, I just met you. Go easy on me, here, please.”</p><p>“Right. San—he’s one of you. A god, or whatever you call yourselves. He controls time, and by association, so do I. And I need to get back to him as soon as possible.”</p><p>“Okay,” Hongjoong said decidedly after a moment of thought. “Well, tell me exactly what happened for you to get here then.”</p><p>“Well, I was at a bar—<em> we </em> were at a bar. San and I. And this guy was taunting me, calling me names and stuff, and I got really angry. Like, <em> really </em>angry. San tried to stop me, but I screamed at him and threw him to the floor. I don’t know what came over me. Anyway, I went to punch the guy but next thing I knew, I felt… this electric pulse, and when I came to it was 1976.”</p><p>Hongjoong brought his hand up to his chin in thought. “Well, that’s no good, is it?” </p><p>That was all he had to say? </p><p>Wooyoung stayed silent for a moment, before Hongjoong’s voice continued. “I hate to say it, but I’m not sure how much help I can be. I know virtually nothing about the manipulation of time, only minds. Though, there is one thing…”</p><p>Wooyoung nodded urgently. He would take anything. “What?”</p><p>“If this guy is looking for you, you might be able to help him out.”</p><p>“I can’t be sure he<em> is </em>looking for me. I’m sure he’s happy to have me out of his hair. I’m only an annoyance to him, anyway.”</p><p>“I’m sure he’s looking for you. You jumping into different times is only going to grow a target on your back if the coalition is after you—which I'm assuming they are, if this friend of yours has broken some of his seals already.”</p><p>Right. Just another reminder that San only cared about him because of himself. But what did Wooyoung care, anyway? The feeling was mutual. </p><p>Hongjoong continued. “Even if he isn’t looking for you, do you have any other choice?” </p><p>Wooyoung was starting to get really sick of hearing that. </p><p>“Yeah, yeah. I know. You’re right. So what do I do, then?”</p><p>“Well, your powers. I know you acquired them as a human, but can you feel them inside you? I’m not sure how to describe it, but… it’s like an energy. Almost like electricity.”</p><p><em> Electricity. </em>That would explain the thunderbolt that seemed to shoot through him when he accidentally travelled back in time in the bar. That would also explain the small electric shock he felt every time San froze time when they were running from the coalition guys. </p><p>Wooyoung went silent, letting his limbs still, searching his body for anything vaguely electric. After a moment, he glanced back up. “I can’t… I can’t feel anything. I know what it’s supposed to feel like—I’ve felt it before, when I’ve used my powers. But I don’t feel anything right now.”</p><p>“That’s no good,” Hongjoong hummed. “Your energy feels weak, even to me, and you're standing right in front of me. He certainly won't be able to find you like this in another time. There’s a way you can concentrate your energy that may be able to help him find you faster, like a signal. But to concentrate your energy, you have to be able to feel it in the first place.”</p><p>“So, what then, we just give up?”</p><p>“I suppose I don’t have anything better to do. Why don’t you stay here for a while and we can see if we can activate those powers, hm?”</p><p>Wooyoung nodded, suddenly acutely aware of how his limbs cried and ached beneath him, suddenly making him feel heavy. He dug his heels into the tile, attempting to stay stable on his feet. “Can I—can I lay down somewhere first? I just climbed like, a fucking mountain to get here and I haven’t slept in over 24 hours.”</p><p>Hongjoong’s eyes widened. “Oh, of course! I can show you to the room, I only have one spare bed but I—”</p><p>“It’s okay,” Wooyoung said firmly. “I’ve been here before. I can find it.”</p><p>
  <br/>
  
</p><p>Wooyoung’s days blurred together. </p><p>He woke up each morning early to watch the sunrise over the hills before gathering for breakfast in Hongjoong’s lonely dining room. Without Seonghwa, Hongjoong was actually surprisingly a decent cook, though nothing could compare to Seonghwa’s fried eggs. </p><p>It felt so empty now with only the two of them, and he found himself glancing at the vacant seats which were at one point inhabited with San and Seonghwa. He couldn’t believe it, but he actually kind of missed San—it was probably just that he hadn’t seen anyone other than Hongjoong in what felt like months, but was really only a few weeks. It wasn’t that he disliked Hongjoong, not by any means—in fact, they’d actually become quite close during Wooyoung’s stay.</p><p>The first few days were awkward, with not much to talk about beyond how Wooyoung’s training was going, to which the answer was usually the same: “No progress.” Wooyoung carefully avoided all topics relating to San and his situation in general, and Hongjoong seemed to get the hint immediately not to probe too hard, especially outside of their training sessions. </p><p>They’d finish their breakfast and Wooyoung would buss the table and clean the dishes in the sink of one of Hongjoong’s three kitchens. That greedy maniac. </p><p>After breakfast, they’d head to the front lawn for Wooyoung’s daily energy training—which was really just a less-lame way to say meditation. Hongjoong would stand above him, heels digging into the soft grass, and walk him through breathing exercises to try to identify even the slightest indication of energy inside of him. Who knew meditation could be so exhausting, anyway?  </p><p>They would stay on the lawn, until the sun gave its first hints of setting on the horizon, then they’d head in for dinner, and do it all again the next day. </p><p>Wooyoung picked at the food on his plate, but he didn’t feel the same hunger he’d felt the past few weeks. In fact, the mere sight of food felt nauseating. </p><p>“Hongjoong.”</p><p>“Hm?”</p><p>“I think it might be time to give up.”</p><p>Hongjoong looked up from his food, eyebrows threading together with concern. “No—no. Don’t say that. We’ll get there, I swear.”</p><p>“I appreciate the optimism, but you don’t need to stay positive for my sake, Hongjoong. I’m being realistic. It’s been weeks, and we’ve gotten nowhere.” </p><p>Hongjoong took a bite of the toast in his hand, and a small glob of jam smeared the corner of his lips. “I know. But don’t say that, Wooyoung. We’ll get there.”</p><p>Truthfully, Wooyoung didn’t know how to <em> not </em> give up. Giving up was all he knew—giving up on Yeosang, giving up on finding a new job after he was laid off, giving up on his whole fucking life. </p><p>Wooyoung sighed. “I think—I think I just need a break from training today. We can pick it up tomorrow.”</p><p>Hongjoong nodded gently, flashing a sympathetic, yet reassuring smile. “Okay. That’s fine. I know it doesn’t feel like it, but I think we’re getting somewhere already. You need to have more faith in yourself.”</p><p>Wooyoung picked at his food for the rest of the morning, barely managing a few bites. Frustrated butterflies stirred in his stomach, flying up to his chest and making him feel dizzy. Wooyoung dropped his fork against the intricately painted ceramic of his plate, letting the <em> clink </em>echo. </p><p>“I’m gonna take a walk,” Wooyoung said suddenly, pushing himself away from the table and retrieving his uneaten food to take to the kitchen. “Let’s reconvene tomorrow.”</p><p>
  
</p><p>The lake was Wooyoung’s favorite place on the property. Well, it was more of a large pond than a lake, but Wooyoung affectionately nicknamed it “The Twilight Lake”, because of all the twilights just after sunset he spent poised on a rock just above the shore, dipping his toes in and watching the ducks splash in the calm water. </p><p>Wooyoung, surprisingly, didn’t hate living with Hongjoong. Aside from them actually becoming quite good friends, Hongjoong’s estate was nothing short of a utopia—hundreds of sprawling acres of untouched land. He’d spent hours exploring the property during his stay, in absence of much else to occupy his time. This was the 70s, after all—he couldn’t just watch Netflix when he was bored, which was pretty much all the time outside of his training. </p><p>Walking along Hongjoong’s property always made Wooyoung feel like he was on some sort of expensive mental-health retreat, deprived of electronics and surrounded only by an expanse of lush nature. It was something he desperately needed. Calm. </p><p>Hongjoong didn’t have it that bad around here, after all. Aside from the frustration of the stagnant training sessions, and the constant fear in the back of his head that his brain might start disintegrating at any moment from his own powers, Wooyoung—for the first time he could remember in his adult life—actually enjoyed life. It was fleeting, but he found himself thinking that Hongjoong’s would be a peaceful place to spend the rest of his life, however long. That possibility was certainly becoming more likely as the days passed. </p><p>He stopped at the lake, sitting at the edge as he usually did, watching the sun make its path in the sky. Hongjoong’s place may have been peaceful, but his mind was anything but. He wanted so badly just to give up on himself. It had been weeks, and he’d only failed miserably every day since his training.  </p><p>He let the frustration build in his core, tossing pebbles across the water. A few skipped across the surface, but most just connected with a harsh <em> plop </em>and sunk to the bottom. He knew how to skip rocks, once upon a time. </p><p>All meeting San had taught him was that he was always useless. He was always bad at everything. Bad at school, so he dropped out of college. Bad at friendships, so he abandoned Yeosang without so much as an explanation. Bad at work, so he got terminated from his job. Bad at life, so he tried to end it. Hell, he was even bad at killing himself. He was still alive, after all. No thanks to San.</p><p>He hated San, but he couldn’t deny that he was right about one thing. </p><p>Wooyoung was a useless human.</p><p>“Fucking useless body,” Wooyoung spat under his breath as he threw rocks across the surface. “Fucking<em> useless</em>!”</p><p>The pebbles felt inadequate for his frustration. He stumbled to his feet, looking around for anything larger, before locking eyes with a pile of medium sized rocks. He grasped one firmly before hurling it across the water’s surface, startling the ducks at the other end of the lake. They scattered as he chucked rocks, forcing all his anger into his hands as he threw. He screamed into the endless expanse of Hongjoong’s property, cursing the heavens that he’d lost all faith in, chucking rocks, imagining they were all his problems crashing against the lake’s surface. </p><p>“Fuck! Fuck you!” he screamed, not even sure if he was directing it at the heavens or himself. “You’re good for fucking nothing!”</p><p>Wooyoung lurched forward suddenly, feeling like his stomach had just been prodded with a stun baton. His vision went static for a brief moment, and when it returned, he saw a shadow blocking his own. </p><p>Wooyoung’s head whipped around his shoulder, dropping the large rock that had been grasped tightly in his palm.</p><p>
  <em> San. </em>
</p><p>Wooyoung should have felt relief, but he didn’t. He felt only disappointment. San, on the other hand, looked like he was about to rip Wooyoung’s throat out with his bare hands.</p><p>“San! How did you—”</p><p>“I searched all over the fucking timeline for you," San snapped. "Do you know how <em>exhausted</em> I am? I depleted every last ounce of energy on jumping to every conceivable place in history you could have been."</p><p>“I’m so sorry, I have no idea what happened, I’m just so glad you found me...” Wooyoung started, trailing off as he watched San’s expression twist even angrier. </p><p>San gritted his teeth, looking on Wooyoung with a gaze that formed daggers through his heart. “We’re leaving, human. God, you really are useless. Ever since I met you, nothing but fucking trouble. At least you had enough sense in your pea-brain to come to Hongjoong’s.” </p><p>Wooyoung’s eyes widened. “Wait… leaving? Now? But I didn’t get to say goodbye to Hongjoong. He doesn’t even know when he’ll see me aga—”</p><p>“Boohoo. He’ll see you again, obviously. I’m not wasting another fucking second messing in the past.” San held out his hand to Wooyoung’s, offering it only briefly before slapping their palms together. “Don’t let go while we jump, or I’ll fucking kill you.”</p><p>“I wish you would,” Wooyoung muttered angrily. </p><p>He knew he couldn’t stay with Hongjoong forever, but for once, for fucking<em> once, </em>he finally felt like he belonged somewhere. Like he was accepted. Like he was cared for. </p><p>San squeezed his hand harshly, and he only had a second to glance over his shoulder to say goodbye to Hongjoong’s mansion before he felt the thunderbolt ricochet down his spine, and the world shifted back to San’s apartment. </p><p>Wooyoung collapsed to the hardwood, his legs giving out from underneath him the second the electricity let up on his insides. </p><p>He pushed back to his feet slowly, beelining to the couch, but San was already in front of him, blocking his path.</p><p>“San, can we just—can we just talk about this tomorrow? I’ve had a long—”</p><p>“Oh, don’t start with that,” San growled. “You don’t just get to go to bed. After the hell you put me through. I spent <em> weeks </em> searching for you. And don’t even get me <em> started </em> on how I had to explain you disappearing out of thin air in the bar. You’re lucky they were all too drunk off their asses to remember.”</p><p>“What the hell do you want from me?” Wooyoung snapped. </p><p>“Do you have any idea how fucking pissed the coalition is going to be that I’ve been jumping around the timeline? They’re going to have our fucking heads. I can’t believe how reckless you were.”</p><p>“San, I didn’t mean to. You think I wanted to jump to <em> 19-fucking-76? </em> I thought I was never going to get home!”</p><p>San scoffed, a mocking smile pulling up on his lips. “Oh, <em> you </em> had a hard time? You have no idea how goddamn exhausted I am after searching for your ass. Plus, do you know how horribly fucking <em> illegal </em> time jumping like that is? They’re gonna kill us, Wooyoung. And not in the way you want, either. You have no <em> fucking </em>clue what you just did.”</p><p>“Why are you mad at me, San? I didn’t mean to do it! It just happened!”</p><p>“Just tell me you didn’t speak to anyone while you were there. You have no idea what kind of consequences—”</p><p>“No, no, I went straight to Hongjoong’s,” Wooyoung lied quickly. “I’m not an idiot.”</p><p>“You didn’t speak to anyone else? <em> Anyone? </em>”</p><p>“No, I swear.” <em> Lies </em> . “I mean, some guy gave me a ride there, but we barely spoke, I swear, I went straight to Hongjoong’s.” <em> Lies, lies, lies.  </em></p><p>San gritted his teeth, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Fine. Well at least you had enough sense for that.”</p><p>There was absolutely no way he could tell San about meeting him in the past. He just hoped San wasn’t bluffing now about not remembering him.</p><p>“I wish you never fucking found me,” Wooyoung hissed under his breath. “I was doing just fine there on my own.”</p><p>“You were not doing just fine,<em> human </em>,” San retorted, emphasizing his degradation. “You had Hongjoong there as your little babysitter, and thank god too, because obviously you can’t be left alone for one second without creating problems for me.” </p><p>Wooyoung felt fiery heat rising in his chest again, swelling underneath his ribcage. This wasn’t good—nothing good ever happened when he was angry. He pushed past San towards the front door, grabbing a jacket indignantly from the entry closet.</p><p>“Where the fuck are you going? Don’t think you can just—”</p><p>“I just need some air,” Wooyoung responded angrily, trying his best to control his breathing.</p><p>“You’re not going anywhere,” San growled, hooking his hand over Wooyoung’s shoulder firmly, but he slapped it away. </p><p>“I said I just need some air! You never just let me have any <em> fucking </em>air!” Wooyoung screamed, this time at the top of his lungs, probably alerting every resident on San’s floor.</p><p>San’s expression changed suddenly to something akin to shock, but he didn’t say anything, just stepped to the side to let Wooyoung through to the front door. Wooyoung’s breaths were heavy and labored as he finished zipping up his coat, heading through the door and slamming it hard behind him. </p><p>He just needed some time to calm down—to stop seeing red so he didn’t accidentally shift through time again. Wooyoung’s emotions had always been turbulent, but he was starting to think he needed better ways to manage his anger. Fresh air always helped. </p><p>The air outside was brisk, if not freezing, and it was a drastic change from the warm spring air he’d experienced the past few weeks at Hongjoong’s. From the darkness, Wooyoung was able to ascertain that they’d jumped back at night, though Wooyoung couldn’t exactly tell what time it was, and he’d left his phone back at San’s apartment. He wasn’t going back to get it now. He just needed to walk for a bit to clear his head. </p><p>How could San be so angry at him? Wooyoung knew he messed up by time traveling, but it wasn’t like he did it intentionally. In fact, he still didn’t have any control over his powers. Wooyoung guessed that San had only been able to find him because he’d stirred up his emotions so much that he probably gave off a large amount of energy—enough for San to quickly locate him in the timeline, however that worked. </p><p>Maybe he’d been focusing on the wrong thing at Hongjoong’s. He’d tried to channel his powers through meditation, but maybe he needed to learn how to harness them through the spectrum of his emotions—just in a more intentional, controlled way.</p><p>Wooyoung shivered under his jacket, underestimating the chill of the air. He’d been walking in one direction for a while, and his anger had all but faded by now. He was probably safe to start heading back, and hopefully resolve things more calmly with San. Part of him couldn’t blame San for being mad. Even Hongjoong had emphasized the coalition’s distaste for time travel, and Wooyoung certainly didn’t make San’s run from them any easier. </p><p>Wooyoung was jolted back to attention by his legs twisting around each other as he tripped forward, nearly face-planting on the concrete. He glanced down to his shoes when he regained his balance, one of which had somehow come untied while during his walk. He stepped to the edge of the sidewalk and out of the way, kneeling down to tie it.</p><p>Before he could reach for the shoelace, a hand clamped over his mouth. </p><p>
  <em> What the— </em>
</p><p>Wooyoung thrashed against the arm that viced around his neck in a chokehold, the pursuer’s other hand still smushing his lips with what he now recognized as a piece of cloth. He tried to scream, but his voice was muffled by the damp terry-cloth smothering him, making it hard to breathe. It tasted sweet against his lips, and the scent swelled in his nostrils. </p><p>He thrashed and thrashed, twisting his body and attempting to flail his limbs as his throat ached from screaming, but the assailant held him tightly. The man holding him still was clearly much bigger, with arm muscles that bulged around Wooyoung’s neck to keep him contained. The chokehold tightened as another pair of hands grasped his ankles, nails digging into his skin painfully.</p><p>He registered his body being hauled into the back of a van parked by the road, throwing him in like a ragdoll. His head hit the van’s hard interior, slamming against it with astounding force. It wasn’t enough to knock him out, because he just barely remembered one of the men slapping the cloth over his mouth again and holding it there until his whole world spiraled to black. </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. ad undas</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>ok quick warning tags for this chapter: graphic depictions of torture including blood, cutting/slicing wounds, and electrocution.</p><p>that being said have fun! &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
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</p><p>Wooyoung’s eyelids shuttered open slowly. His brain pounded in his skull from where it had been cracked against the van, and his body felt like it had been covered in a blanket weighted with bricks, dragging him down into the creaky wooden chair he was shackled to. </p><p>His wrists were bound behind him, the rope stinging as it sliced into his skin, and his ankles were bound to each chair leg, cinched so tightly he could already feel his circulation slowing, causing his feet to grow cold beneath him. </p><p>His eyes struggled to adjust as they scanned the room, which was empty except for a desk and a stack of rickety office chairs shoved to one corner. The room was dark, lit only by a few dim florescent lights filtering through large glass panels outside of the room. Wooyoung immediately registered what the room reminded him of: an office building, a lot like the one he used to work in. </p><p>His head lolled downwards, still fuzzy and foggy, static forming a vignette around his vision. He tried to count the seconds as he sat in the eerie silence, forming a mental image of the minutes in his mind. He tried to give him some semblance of connection to reality, but he lost count somewhere around 35. Whatever they’d knocked him out with make his mind feel soupy, like the thoughts were floating in a thick broth, keeping his whole brain underwater. </p><p>26… 27… 28… wait, did he say 26 already? Shit. </p><p>He counted and recounted until he felt his brain piece back together finally, the effects of whatever knocked him out finally purging from his system. Wooyoung closed his eyes at some point, letting his head decline down as he struggled in and out of consciousness. His body was pumping with adrenaline, and yet he felt overwhelmingly exhausted. Maybe the substance hadn’t worn off entirely yet. </p><p>He was shocked back to consciousness by a hot white light flooding through his closed eyelids and the sound of stomping footsteps entering the room, and his eyes pulled upwards, adjusting to the bright office lights. </p><p>Rectangular after-images overwhelmed his vision every time he glanced upwards at the fluorescents. Upon closer examination, he was definitely in some sort of an abandoned office building, in what seemed like a large meeting room. He could see walls and walls of dilapidated cubicles outside the glass window panels, cementing his theory.</p><p>His eyes focused on the two men entering the room, each clad head-to-toe in black clothing—black dress shoes, black pants, and long black suit jackets. Small silver chains hung from various points on the suits, and dangled from their necks in long arches. They donned black wide-brimmed fedoras and black face masks with an x-shaped chain strapped across the middle, obscuring their face except for their eyes, which shone sinisterly beneath the light.</p><p>One was much larger than the other in stature—he must have been the one who’d had Wooyoung in a chokehold earlier—and the other shorter, but similarly bulky. They looked like they could snap Wooyoung in half if they wanted to. </p><p>The larger one stepped forward, procuring a knife from the black leather duffle bag he’d tossed on the floor when he entered. The blade glinted dangerously under the harsh lights. </p><p>“Here’s the deal, kid. You answer our questions, no one gets hurt. Fair deal, huh?” He ran his index finger over the blade’s body, brandishing it clearly in Wooyoung’s line of sight. “If not, well, let’s just say you’ll be talking eventually. So best you just comply now.”</p><p>“I don’t—I don’t know what you’re talking about. You—you have the wrong person,” Wooyoung lied unconvincingly. </p><p>“If you’re thinking of lying to us any more, I wouldn’t. The more you lie, the worse this will be for you. You know exactly who we’re looking for—your friend <em> San. </em>You tell us where he is, and we can end this all right here. What do you say?” Wooyoung could see just enough of his face beneath his hat to see his eyebrows raise condescendingly, stepping forward until his figure cast a shadow over Wooyoung’s. </p><p>A thought dawned on Wooyoung as soon as they asked about San’s location: <em> His sigil. </em>They didn’t know it would lead them to San. Wooyoung squeezed his fist together in the restraints, praying they couldn’t see the dim glow seeping from the seams of his fingers. They may have seen it while tying him up, anyway, but there was still a chance they didn’t know it was connected with San’s location. </p><p>“I—I don’t know. I don’t know where he is,” Wooyoung pleaded. “Please, if I knew I would—”</p><p>“You’re a bad liar.” </p><p>The man’s blade kissed the outline of Wooyoung’s jaw, dancing it across his skin. The edge was needle-sharp, enough to sting like a papercut as it dragged down his jaw. One thing Wooyoung had learned about his self-healing powers in the months since discovering them were that the only wounds that healed immediately were the ones that were fatal—small cuts would heal eventually, but would hurt for much longer. </p><p>Wooyoung suppressed a wince at the sting—he knew this was barely grazing the surface of what was coming. He might as well start working at his pain tolerance while it was still, well… tolerable.</p><p>They had already stripped him of his jacket before tying him to the chair, leaving him in only a thin tee. The blade snagged the fabric of his shirt collar, and the man flicked his wrist violently downwards, tearing Wooyoung’s shirt down the middle with a sickening <em> rip, </em>then pushed it open with the tip of the blade. </p><p>“I’ll give you one more chance. Where is San?” </p><p>“I don’t know—I don’t—” </p><p>The blade sliced through his flesh, cutting down the middle of his chest, and Wooyoung cried out involuntarily as he felt the skin tear apart. He’d been through worse. He’d been through so much worse. He winced, but it was nothing that he couldn’t handle.</p><p>
  <em> You don’t want to know what happens if they find you.  </em>
</p><p>San’s words had echoed in his head since he warned him the first day they met. And, despite what they were doing now, Wooyoung didn’t believe this was what San had meant. He meant <em> after </em>torturing him for information. There was something much, much worse if they managed to find San. And whatever worse was, Wooyoung didn’t want anything to do with it.</p><p>He couldn’t talk. He couldn’t give away San. He couldn’t. </p><p>“How about some easier questions, hm? What do you know about the seals? How did San break his? How’d you get his powers?”</p><p>Wooyoung zipped his lips tighter.<em> Slice </em>. They probed harder, asking more and more questions, but Wooyoung had already decided to seal his lips for good, doing his best to suppress the pained cries that spilled over. </p><p><em> Slice. Slice. Slice. </em> Wooyoung screamed and shook as the knife dug slowly, so <em> slowly</em>, tearing across his flesh with overwhelming force. His teeth gritted together, and his face distorted into a wince, despite his utmost effort to repress it. </p><p>Each cut was deeper, healed quicker, but didn’t make the sting any less painful. They could even go forever like this, if they wanted—Wooyoung would never bleed out, he would never starve to death, he would only suffer in an endless loop. They could slice and slice for information until Wooyoung ran out of screams, and then they could slice some more. </p><p>Wooyoung squeezed his fists tightly behind him, writhing involuntarily against his restraints as the man dug into his flesh. <em> The sigil. </em>The sigil was his only hope of San finding him—if San was even looking in the first place. Wooyoung had stormed out so indignantly, perhaps San just let him go. </p><p>How long would it be until he realized Wooyoung might be in danger? He supposed it didn’t matter. He had no choice but to wait out San’s arrival, no matter what it took.</p><p>The man stepped away finally, letting his eyes wander over Wooyoung’s chest where the lacerations began to heal on their own, cauterizing over themselves to reveal fresh, unsliced flesh. He pocketed the knife beneath his long suit jacket. </p><p>“Not talking then, I see?” he noted calmly through his thick face mask. “Hm. I didn’t want it to be this way.”</p><p>The man shot a glance back at his partner, who had been watching from the back of the room. The shorter man nodded as if taking an order, then fetched something out of the duffel. </p><p>It didn’t matter what they did to him, he wouldn’t talk. He couldn’t talk. Whatever they had, it couldn’t be worse than he’d already done to himself—throwing himself from a building, slitting his own wrists, shooting a bullet through his skull and stabbing a knife through his heart. Their cuts were just child’s play. </p><p>Wooyoung focused his eyes on a large water bottle in the smaller man’s hand as he replaced the position of the taller one. He couldn’t tell exactly where they were going with this—waterboarding<em>, </em>maybe, but the water bottle they had didn’t seem like enough for that. </p><p>“Have anything you’d like to tell us? San’s location, perhaps?” the smaller man offered, uncapping the lid of the large plastic bottle. Wooyoung screwed his eyes shut, not exactly sure what to expect. </p><p>Whatever he expected, this wasn’t it. The man sprinkled a generous amount of ice-cold water between his collarbones, letting it dribble down his chest slowly until it soaked his chest.</p><p>
  <em> What was he— </em>
</p><p>The room was silent except for the static buzz of the fluorescents when the man brought his right hand up to his chest, slowly slipping off his leather gloves with his teeth. He flexed and examined his hand for a moment, then locked eyes with Wooyoung, letting them glow demonically under the light. </p><p>The man pressed his hand against Wooyoung’s bare chest. A shock ripped through him—jolts of electric currents tearing through his limbs. He caught a glimpse of the shorter man’s eyes glistening maniacally as Wooyoung yelped and squirmed from the sudden jolt. </p><p><em> Oh god </em>. He could conduct electricity through his hands?</p><p>Electric pulses danced across Wooyoung’s skin before penetrating through his muscles and frying his insides. His body convulsed involuntarily, and he screamed out in pain—noises that terrified him, noises that sounded entirely more animal than human. </p><p>The man moved his hand off Wooyoung’s chest, letting the residual shock run its course for a few seconds before dulling, but his relief was fleeting. Just as Wooyoung felt the breath resume in his lungs, he felt the man’s hand against his chest once more. He howled and thrashed, but he didn’t break—not outwardly, at least. But they were breaking him inside—Wooyoung was weak, he was cowardly, he was useless. But he didn’t talk. </p><p>The man pulled his hand away again after what felt like forever, and Wooyoung trembled as the residual current wracked through his limbs. He felt like his insides were being microwaved, and his heart stopped and started in a constant cycle. </p><p>Tears streamed from his eyes, crashing down on his thighs which shook ruthlessly beneath him. He lost track of time—it could have been an hour or ten that he was strapped to the chair, body convulsing under the force of the electric shock. His thoughts reduced to desperate mush, a string of <em> Nonononono, please no, oh god oh god oh god no. </em></p><p>The man pulled away, finally, taking a few steps back, but Wooyoung was too distressed to feel any sort of relief. </p><p>“Damn, this one’s stronger than I thought,” The electric man called to his partner, who unearthed the knife back out of his pocket. </p><p>The knife. The knife Wooyoung could handle. Still, he closed his eyes tightly, squeezing his eyelids together in a silent prayer. </p><p><em> Please, please, San. Please</em>.</p><p>“One more chance before this starts to get a lot, lot, worse.”</p><p>Wooyoung locked his eyes on his torturer, narrowing them darkly, doing his best to feign confidence. “Eat me.” </p><p>The man in front of him shrugged, bringing the knife around to Wooyoung’s body to his wrist restraints.</p><p>Was he going to untie him? No—</p><p>The masked man sliced through the rope that bound Wooyoung’s left hand—thank god, not the one with the sigil—grasping Wooyoung’s weak wrist in his large hand and tugging it forward, letting Wooyoung’s arm extend out in front of him. Wooyoung’s right wrist was still bound to the back of the chair, but even if it wasn’t, there was no use trying to fight back. They could overpower him easily, and Wooyoung’s entire body was so weak after the electrocution that he wouldn’t have had the strength to stand up even if they undid his restraints and let him free. His limbs felt like jello.  </p><p>The tip of the knife tickled the soft skin of his wrist before piercing through the flesh. This was nothing. He’d slit his own wrists before. </p><p>
  <em> This was nothing, right? </em>
</p><p>The cut was impossibly deep, and Wooyoung’s face twisted with agony, his teeth clamping down on his lower lip until it bled to try to muzzle the scream that ripped through his throat. </p><p>
  <em> This was nothing.  </em>
</p><p>Wooyoung peered one eye open slowly, enough to examine the wound as it inevitably cauterized back together. Wait, what was he—</p><p>The man held his fingers at the seams of Wooyoung’s open wound, keeping it pried open so it couldn’t heal itself. His other arm snaked around to procure a small vial of clear, slightly yellow liquid. He silently uncapped the cork from the top, teasing the vial over Wooyoung’s wound. </p><p>
  <em> No. No. No— </em>
</p><p>The liquid trickled out, meeting the exposed wound with a searing burn. An inhuman scream ripped from Wooyoung’s throat as it ate away at his muscles, his exposed blood vessels burning and bubbling. He imagined this was the worst pain humanly possible. The liquid devoured his flesh alive, leaving behind harsh burn marks around the edges of the wound, incinerating his nerve endings. Wooyoung writhed and thrashed, screams wracking his body and agony overtaking every inch of him. If he weren’t immortal, he would have died from the shock alone.</p><p>
  <em> San, please. I need you. Please. I can’t do it anymore.  </em>
</p><p>He couldn’t count how long it took for the burning to subside while his body started to rebuild itself internally. The man pulled away, eyes fixed intently on Wooyoung’s slowly healing laceration, still holding the wound open to prevent it from sealing immediately. After what felt like an eternity, he teetered the vial over the wound again. </p><p>Wooyoung cried, trembling and flailing in his hold. “Stop! Oh god, please stop! I’ll tell you, I’ll tell you, I swear I’ll tell you, just please—”</p><p>The man’s eyes glimmered, still dangling the chemicals over the gash. “I’d spit it out now, if I were you.”</p><p>“1597 Main Street! Apartment 732!” Wooyoung cried, twitching and trashing in the man’s hold as he held the vial over his fresh cut. </p><p>His old apartment building. </p><p>He just needed to buy himself some time. They’d have to check out his lead, meaning at least one of them would be gone for a while. If he could just buy enough time—</p><p>The man released Wooyoung’s arm, which fell limply to his side, dangling like his bones were made of rubber. Blood dripped from the still-open wound, making tiny puddles on the floor as the last of the acid sizzled inside. Wooyoung’s entire body trembled with dizzying force, wracked by insufferable pain. He couldn’t do it anymore. He couldn’t. </p><p>
  <em> San, please. </em>
</p><p>The larger man nodded back to his partner. “Go check it out. Then you call me immediately.”</p><p><em> Shit. </em> They were going to find out he was lying eventually—and then what? What if San didn’t find him by then? If this was just the warm-up, what would they do to him when they were <em> really </em>mad?</p><p>They let up their torture for a while after re-tying Wooyoung’s left arm—now fully healed from the laceration—back behind the chair. They left him alone for just long enough for Wooyoung to start fading in and out of consciousness, head bobbing and lolling downwards towards his chest. He was devoid of comprehensible thoughts, barely able to speak, whole body shaking underneath him. </p><p>He could have sworn he slipped into something like sleep for a moment before being shaken awake by the loud sound of a door being slammed, his torturer re-entering the meeting room. </p><p>Wooyoung was just barely able to register the man shoving what looked like a cellphone in his back pocket forcefully, then returned his gaze to Wooyoung. “So, my partner just revealed some… interesting information. Looks like you<em> lied </em> to us.”</p><p>
  <em> Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. San, please.  </em>
</p><p>“So here’s the deal. If you don’t give me the <em> real </em> address…” He dug through his duffel bag, drawing out a pair of bolt-cutters. <em> Oh god— </em>“First I’ll make an incision from your chest down to your stomach…” He brandished the knife in one hand, then brought the large tool up to Wooyoung’s eye-line. “then I’ll start breaking each rib, one by one.”</p><p>
  <em> San, oh god, please. San— </em>
</p><p>The man’s eyes flared maniacally. “Then—here’s the best part—I’ll start removing organs. Don’t worry, they’ll grow back, of course, so I can do it all again until you talk.”</p><p>Wooyoung shook his head so violently he felt like his skull would roll off his neck. <em> Nonono— </em></p><p>His eyes squeezed together tightly as the man approached. He couldn’t watch. The fluorescents burned his pupils through his eyelids, and he squeezed harder, so hard that his blacked-out vision started forming colorful static. </p><p>A gunshot sounded, and Wooyoung’s whole body jolted upwards reactively, taking the chair with him. </p><p>
  <em> A… gunshot? </em>
</p><p>He opened his eyes to see San—<em> San, oh my god </em>—with a gun in his hand, its trajectory aimed at where his torturer had been moments before. </p><p>“Wooyoung!” San called, distress evident in his voice. </p><p>San rushed towards the chair, carefully avoiding the downed man’s body. He collapsed to his knees forcefully, letting his shins slam against the floor as he came down to Wooyoung, who sat limply, eyes wide with terror and shock. He couldn't speak, couldn't move, could barely breathe. </p><p>"Oh god—oh my god. Wooyoung, hey—hey, Wooyoung, look at me.” San’s eyes pulled up to Wooyoung’s, which were fixed on the floor, struggling to stay open. “Please. Look at me, Wooyoung. Are you okay? What did they do to you?"</p><p>Wooyoung raised his eyes weakly, attempting to meet San's. San reached forward to place his hand on Wooyoung's leg comfortingly. Wooyoung yelped and recoiled, unable to distinguish San's touch from the touch of his assailants. </p><p>His brain flashed back to the torture, the pain every time they touched him. "Oh god, please, no!" he cried out, trashing against the restraints.</p><p>San reeled his hand back. “Hey—hey. It's just me. It's me. You're safe now. You're safe,” San soothed quietly. His face twisted with an uncharacteristic look of concern. </p><p>Wooyoung's expression softened finally, his mind just barely registering that he was safe as San soothed him. His hands cupped around Wooyoung's jaw carefully, and Wooyoung flinched slightly at the touch. San's eyes surveyed Wooyoung's face, searching for something, anything. </p><p>“Oh god, I'm so sorry, but we have to go now. I shot him but… it's only a matter of minutes before it heals. I'm sorry, we have to go.”</p><p>Wooyoung nodded weakly in understanding, tears rolling down his cheeks with involuntary force. His chest heaved with soft, shaky sobs as San scrambled to slice through his ropes. He trembled under the restraints, his eyes unable to focus on anything except San in front of him, and even then just barely. </p><p>San's eyes scanned Wooyoung's face again, then his body, searching for any sign of hurt aside from Wooyoung's sobs, but all of Wooyoung’s physical injuries had already healed. He felt the vice around his ankles loosen finally, returning some of the circulation to his feet, then his hands, which released from their restraints the second San was able to slice through the thick rope with the knife he’d retrieved from the ground. </p><p>“Man… coming… back…” Woyoung choked out, voice hoarse and shaky, barely registering above a whisper. “need… to go… now…”</p><p>"Shit, there's more?" San hissed to himself under his breath, glancing behind his shoulder, then back to Wooyoung. "I'm gonna stand you up now, okay?" </p><p>Wooyoung let his head bob weakly to indicate a <em> yes. </em>Sans arms snaked under his armpits in an attempt to help him to his feet. Wooyoung’s limbs fought against him, resisting the weight of his body, and his knees buckled underneath him the minute San let some of Wooyoung’s weight go from his support. San caught him before he collapsed to the floor completely.</p><p>“Okay, okay, I’m gonna hold on to you, okay? But we need to move quickly.” San slung Wooyoung’s limp arm around his shoulder, letting Wooyoung lean on him for support while he attempted to find his legs underneath him. </p><p>They found their way out of the building as quickly as Wooyoung could manage, which was not quickly at all. San’s car was parked out front, and San deposited him gently in the backseat, allowing Wooyoung to curl up against the cool leather interior as San drove him home. </p><p>The drive was entirely silent, save for the distant, muffled sounds of wheels on the road. Wooyoung was in and out of consciousness, so he couldn’t be sure how long they drove for, or if he’d passed out somewhere along the way, but he registered San opening the door as soon as the wheels stopped. </p><p>“Wooyoung, we’re here. Can you walk?” San asked gently. </p><p>Wooyoung wasn’t sure where his voice was, or if he’d lost the ability to speak entirely. His eyes couldn’t focus, not even on the roof of the car or on San’s eyebrows threading together in concern above him. His limbs wouldn’t stop trembling, even when resting safely in the backseat of San’s car.</p><p>“Okay, okay, come here,” San said with a sigh, reaching over Wooyoung’s body to pull him upright by his shoulders. </p><p>His right arm pulled under Wooyoung’s legs, the other supporting Wooyoung’s back as he hoisted him out of the car in a bridle carry. Wooyoung’s arms fell over San’s shoulders instinctively, enough to keep himself steady. </p><p>Wooyoung couldn’t remember much between San picking him up from the car and him setting Wooyoung down in the hallway in front of his door to retrieve his keys from his pocket. San must have carried him through the entire building. He fumbled the apartment key in the lock, then pushed through the front door. </p><p>Wooyoung’s knees gave out the minute he stumbled into the apartment, slumping over on the floor. His body was still trembling, tears pooling in the corners of his eyes. San helped him up from behind, guiding him to the couch, then took a seat beside him as he gently lowered Wooyoung’s body to the couch cushions, so close that their thighs pressed together. </p><p>“C—can I do anything? Is there anything I can do to help you?”</p><p>Wooyoung couldn’t speak, and he didn’t know what to do except lean on San’s chest in response. He needed comfort, he needed safety, he needed closeness. Wooyoung’s forehead rested against San’s collarbones for a moment before he felt San’s arms pull around him, holding him in a warm embrace. </p><p>Wooyoung wept and shook against his shoulder, letting the rest of it out. He wept until he was out of tears, and even then his body still trembled. His face buried in San’s shirt, soaking the fabric with tears, and San only squeezed tighter in response. </p><p>San whispered softly in his ear, letting his voice stay low and gentle. “I’m so sorry, Wooyoung. I won’t let them take you again. I’m sorry. It was my fault, I—I shouldn’t have yelled at you. It’s my fault that you left and then—I’m sorry.”</p><p>Wooyoung had never heard San apologize, not even for the littlest things. The guilt seemed to be eating away at him, and his voice wavered as he spoke. </p><p>“W-what can I do? Do you need some water? I can—” San started to stand up. </p><p>Wooyoung did need water, but he needed San more right now. </p><p>“Just… stay… please,” Wooyoung managed weakly, reaching his hand out to grasp the tear-soaked fabric of San's shirt. “Don’t leave me.”</p><p>“O-okay,” San stuttered as Wooyoung pushed the weight of his body down over San’s chest, causing him to tip over on the couch. Wooyoung fell on top of him, pressing his head down into the crook of San’s neck and letting his bodyweight blanket San entirely. </p><p>The touch felt incredible. The heat of San’s chest warmed his cheeks, and his breathing started to stabilize, no longer feeling like the walls were closing in on him, no longer trembling from the residual burn of the acid on his cut or the electricity stopping his heart. He only felt San’s body beneath him. Wooyoung grounded himself in the rise and fall of San’s chest, and his head found a home nestled just above San’s broad shoulders.</p><p>San’s arm found the small of his back, rubbing his hand in slow circles for what could have been minutes or hours, he couldn’t tell. All he could focus on was San’s deep voice softly comforting him until his mind, somewhere along the line, pulled him back to the realm of sleep.</p><p>
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</p><p>Wooyoung’s eyes fluttered open lazily. He was still laying on top of San’s chest, arm slung across his body, head nuzzled against his neck. San’s hand was placed softly on his back, and he could feel San’s heartbeat underneath him. How long had he slept for? How long had San been holding him like this?</p><p>He shifted his weight, attempting to rouse his limbs from their rest, until he felt the circulation resume in his body.  </p><p>“A-are you up?” San whispered quietly as Wooyoung shifted positions. “How do you feel?”</p><p> Maybe he was just so touch starved that his body craved warmth anywhere it could find it. Maybe it was the way San had comforted him in a way he hadn’t felt in years. Maybe he just needed an escape. Whatever it was, he found his lips tracing slowly across San's neck, planting soft, sleepy kisses along the surface. He felt San’s body freeze beneath his, arms going stiff. </p><p>Wooyoung knew what he was doing didn’t make any sense—he <em> knew </em> it. San seemed to know it too, although he didn’t protest. San squirmed slightly underneath the weight of Wooyoung’s body as his lips continued to press over his neck, barely leaving traces when he pulled away.</p><p>He needed this. He needed it more than he knew—affection, touch, someone to make him feel like for one fleeting moment, he mattered. It didn’t have to be San, but he was there, and he was warm, and he smelled like laundry detergent and familiarity, and his arms were holding Wooyoung so tightly that he finally felt something other than pain.</p><p>Wooyoung’s kisses worked their way upwards until they collided against San’s lips. They tasted sweeter than he expected, rich and sugary like raw honey, or maybe it was just the sweetness of affection after<em> so</em>, so long. San froze beneath him before melting into it, his hands traveling across Wooyoung’s sides, testing the waters with his fingertips before applying more pressure around his waist. </p><p>Wooyoung kissed him as if he held some sort of answer to all his problems, and for a moment, they all melted away under San’s touch.</p><p>He pulled away to let himself breathe, letting hot puffs of air tickle San’s neck. </p><p>“W-what are you doing?” </p><p>“I just really need this right now,” Wooyoung breathed sleepily. He’d regained his voice after his nap, and his body barely shook anymore in San’s tight embrace. “Please, just let me.”</p><p>San didn’t seem to need any convincing. His hand came up to caress Wooyoung’s sharp jaw, ghosting his fingers across the curve of his bone before guiding Wooyoung’s face back down towards his, connecting their lips again. </p><p>His touch was unbelievably gentle—so gentle that Wooyoung barely recognized the man lying underneath him as San. He held Wooyoung like glass, like he could shatter at any moment beneath San’s fingertips. He held Wooyoung with so much care that, for a fleeting moment, he thought that it might have been a dream.</p><p>Their lips danced over each other’s, forming a slow rhythm. San’s hand slid from Wooyoung’s jaw up to his hair, threading in the locks tenderly. Wooyoung moved his lips back down past San’s jaw, littering drawn-out kisses along the sensitive skin of San’s neck again, listening to the way his breath hitched in his throat, letting out involuntary "<em>mms" </em>that rang in Wooyoung’s ears. San petted his hair softly, lulling Wooyoung back into a drowsy haze. He supposed he hadn’t slept long enough, still, for how spent his body was. </p><p>He pulled his lips away from San’s skin to nuzzle back against his chest. “I’m… tired…” he breathed. </p><p>His vision faded back out to the rise and fall of San’s chest, and he vaguely remembered San slipping out from underneath him, collecting his limbs from the couch and carrying him to the bed in his room.</p><p>The cloud-like pillow felt like heaven against his throbbing, dizzied skull, and he sunk down into the mattress, feeling a heavy comforter being slung over his body before once again drifting away.</p>
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<a name="section0013"><h2>13. in somnis veritas</h2></a>
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</p><p>Wooyoung cuddled his head against the pillow, nuzzling under the comforter of the warm bed. </p><p>
  <em> The… bed? </em>
</p><p>He could only barely recall the night before, including when San had gathered his jello-limbs from the couch and carted him to the bedroom<b>—</b>though he was so exhausted he couldn’t be entirely sure if he had dreamt that or not. Wooyoung rolled over lazily, expecting to see San occupying the other side, but he was greeted only by a vacant mess of tangled sheets. Had he woken up before Wooyoung? </p><p>He tested his weight on his feet before hoisting himself up from bed, ruffling his messy hair. </p><p>“San?” he called quietly as he emerged from the bedroom. “Sa—<b>”</b></p><p>Wooyoung went quiet as soon as he saw him, sprawled out over the couch like a broken starfish, limbs folded over the edge, face planted against the back cushions.  </p><p>Had San actually slept out there all night so Wooyoung could have his bed alone? Wooyoung’s lips twitched up into a small smile, not only at the unexpectedly nice gesture but also at the amusement of watching a powerful immortal curled uncomfortably on the couch. </p><p>He prodded carefully to the kitchen, attempting not to rouse San from his awkward slumber, but Wooyoung couldn’t help but make noise as he poked around the cupboards for something to eat. San thrust his whole body upright on the couch, causing Wooyoung to flinch at the sudden movement.</p><p>“Morning,” Wooyoung called softly, searching the fridge. </p><p>San shook his sleep-tousled hair out. “Oh... morning.”</p><p>Wooyoung realized it must be weird for San to see him up and puttering around in the kitchen as if nothing had happened. Truthfully, Wooyoung was still operating in a state of shock, but his body no longer physically ached, nor trembled when he tried to walk. Mentally, he was just doing his best to push the trauma deep down in a distance crevice of his mind. There was no point dwelling on it, and he certainly wasn’t going to use San as his therapist. He didn’t want to worry Yeosang over it, either. He just needed to pretend it never happened.</p><p>“Want something to eat? I see you… uh, bought eggs.” Wooyoung fumbled with a cheap styrofoam egg carton, scanning for an expiration date. “How old are these anyway?” </p><p>“I dunno, they’re probably still edible though,” San shrugged. “I decided to try cooking when you were away.”</p><p>Wooyoung opened the carton to reveal only one egg missing. “Well, you didn’t get very far.”</p><p>“I burnt it,” San grumbled. </p><p>Wooyoung sputtered into a laugh. “And you didn’t, you know,<em> try again </em>?”</p><p>San gritted his teeth.  “Well I was a little busy searching for you around the whole goddamn timeline, sorry I didn’t have time to become a chef, too.”</p><p>Thank god, San was acting normally about the whole thing. Wooyoung was worried things may be awkward after kissing him the night before, but San probably just chalked it up to Wooyoung’s vulnerable state. That was all it was. </p><p>San rolled lazily off the couch, taking a seat at the counter stools as Wooyoung gathered materials to make scrambled eggs. San had also picked up some other ingredients while he was gone, but most were spoiled by now, rotting away in the vegetable drawer. </p><p>“So, uh, how… how do you feel?” San asked hesitantly. </p><p>“Fine,” Wooyoung said quickly. "I'm not really in a mood to talk about it though."</p><p>“Oh. Okay.” San went quiet for a moment, tapping his fingers awkwardly at the countertop. "There is something we need to talk about though.”</p><p>Wooyoung feigned composure as he cracked a few eggs against the side of a mixing bowl. “Mm?” </p><p>“I’ll make it brief, but… the coalition,” San started. “Thanks to yesterday’s… events… we can’t be taking any more unnecessary risks. They’re fresh on our trail now, and they’re probably patrolling the area harder than before.”</p><p>"Okay…"</p><p>“Meaning we shouldn’t be leaving this apartment for a while, not unless it’s to go to Yunho’s.”</p><p>“What about food?” Wooyoung gestured in the direction of the fridge, which contained almost nothing aside from an assortment of rotting vegetables.</p><p>“We can use Hongjoong’s card to get groceries if we need, but we should make it quick. Other than that, we shouldn’t be making any trips that aren’t absolutely necessary.”</p><p>“So what, we’re just locking ourselves up here?” Wooyoung questioned, though a part of him was relieved at the proposition. He couldn’t help but feel anxious at the very idea of going outside with the possibility of the coalition finding him again. </p><p>“I don’t really see us having any other choice,” San sighed, gritting his teeth. </p><p>“Why don’t we just go to Hongjoong’s?” </p><p>“We need to stay close to Yunho. I visited him a few times while you were fucking around in 1976, and it seems like these next few seals are going to be more work than he thought. He wants me to come in at least once a week, if not more, so he can test out some of his work and tweak his formulas accordingly. Speaking of, no more going out alone anymore. Either of us. If we need to go somewhere, we go together. No exceptions.”</p><p>Wooyoung stirred the eggs in the pan, then deposited them onto plates, shooting an amused glance up at San. “What’re you gonna do about your precious trips to the bar, then?” </p><p>“Grocery stores sell liquor, don’t they?”</p><p>Wooyoung only chuckled in response, sliding San his plate of eggs across the countertop. “Here. Eat.”</p><p>
  <br/>
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</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> No. </em>
</p><p>Wooyoung’s eyes fixed on his arms extended in front of him, each locked in place by the force of disembodied leather-gloves. Ribbons of blood spilled out as knived sliced him from wrist to elbow, pooling at his feet in a morbid display. </p><p>
  <em> No no no no<b>—</b> </em>
</p><p>He trashed against his restraints, screaming as acid breached the surface of his skin, boiling inside his gashed wounds. </p><p>
  <em> Oh god no. </em>
</p><p>His eyes fell down to his chest, and a large zipper embedded in his skin slowly unzipped to reveal his beating heart, his lungs, his organs. Waterfalls of viscous blood spilled over from his gaping chest, painting the floor a deep crimson.</p><p>
  <em> No no no.  </em>
</p><p>He glanced up to the masked man, closing in on him, brandishing a large pair of bolt cutters. He pulled his mask down slowly, revealing a hideous smile carved across his face, ice-white teeth sparkling under the dim lights, eyes flashing a demonic red as he advanced. Wooyoung screamed, but there was no sound—his mouth was underwater, and he choked on the syrupy red liquid filling his lungs.</p><p><em> San, please, help </em> <b> <em>—</em> </b></p><p> </p><p>Wooyoung’s body jolted upright with disorienting force, and he choked on air as he struggled to locate the air in his lungs. His hands fumbled at the couch cushions, attempting to steady himself in reality. </p><p>His shirt clung uncomfortably to his sweat-soaked skin, and he was shivering despite being entirely too hot. He’d already thrown his blanket somewhere across the living room floor while he was asleep, and his pillow was soaked with an unsavory mixture of sweat and drool. He glanced around his immediate area, identifying his surroundings.</p><p>This wasn’t his first nightmare. It wasn’t even his 20th. It must have been somewhere like his 50th, though he stopped counting somewhere along the line. </p><p>“A-are you okay?” a deep voice called from the kitchen. </p><p>Wooyoung’s head whipped towards the sound. It was dark, but he could see San’s outline, silhouetted by the moonlight that filtered through the window. </p><p>Wooyoung opened his mouth to respond, but all that spilled out was an involuntary sob. He buried his head in his hands, letting the tears bead over his palms before dripping down his wrists.  The sigil glowed brightly with San near, lighting his face up like a flashlight. He heard the distinct <em> clink </em> of a glass against the countertop before San was in front of him, kneeling in front of the couch just feet from Wooyoung. </p><p>“What’s wrong?” he asked. </p><p>Wooyoung opened his mouth again, fighting through his breaths which came out either too heavy or too shallow.</p><p>“I<b>—</b>I can’t sleep,” Wooyoung managed. </p><p>“Do you need some wine or something? That usually helps me when I—”</p><p>Wooyoung’s body shook as he rubbed the tears from his eyes with his fists, and his voice trembled quietly. “No, San. I<em> can’t sleep. </em>I haven’t been able to sleep—I haven’t slept since—I haven’t slept more than an hour a night. The nightmares, I wake up shaking and… San, it’s been almost two weeks. I haven’t slept…” </p><p>“Oh. Shit,” San uttered, pulling up from his knees to take a careful seat next to Wooyoung on the couch. </p><p>Wooyoung hadn’t meant to drag San into this. He hadn’t meant to tell San at all, actually. He was going to deal with it on his own if it killed him. And it already had. His lack of sleep had broken him down completely. He’d spent the last eleven days since his kidnapping feigning sanity around the apartment, but he was slowly unraveling.</p><p>“I’m going crazy, San. I can’t<em> fucking </em> sleep. When I try, all I see is—I see those coalition guys come after me, with their masks and their glowing fucking eyes, and I feel—I <em> feel </em>the pain, and they—I can’t do it anymore,” Wooyoung said, thoughts disjointed as he choked back sobs. </p><p>He felt San’s hand nestle awkwardly between his shoulder blades, stroking slowly across his sweat-soaked shirt. </p><p>Wooyoung sniffled, attempting to pull himself back together. “I’m sorry. Just go back to bed. I can handle it.”</p><p>“Clearly you can’t,” San replied, so matter-of-fact that Wooyoung could only blink in response. “A human will fall apart without enough sleep. Trust me, I know.”</p><p>Wooyoung buried his head back in his palms. “I’m—I just don’t know what else I could do. I’ve tried staying up all night, I’ve tried drinking after you went to bed, I’ve tried—” he paused, distracted by the feeling of San’s hand making smooth circles on his back. <em> San’s hand.  </em></p><p>“So that’s where all our alcohol has been going…” San muttered. </p><p>“San.”</p><p>“Oh, sorry."</p><p>Wooyoung shook his head, pulling away from his hands. “No, no. No. It’s just—there’s… there’s one thing I haven’t tried.”</p><p>"What?"</p><p>“Can—” Wooyoung glanced at San at his side, his face half-illuminated by the soft glow of the light from the windows. “Do you think I could try sleeping in your bed tonight?”</p><p>San blinked, then nodded. “O-oh. Yeah, sure, I wouldn’t mind switching again.”</p><p>“No…” Wooyoung murmured. His cheeks grew hot, and he was thankful for the blanket of darkness obscuring his embarrassment. “Like,<em> with </em>you. In the bed.”</p><p>Wooyoung could just make out the whites of San’s eyes growing wide at his side. “Oh, yeah. That should be fine.”</p><p>Wooyoung hadn’t planned to talk about what happened between them—not now, and probably not ever. But his mind was shattering into pieces every time his nightmares had him jolting awake, feeling residual pulses of electricity and clawing at the non-existent cuts in the middle of the night. </p><p>“It’s just—the last time I was able to fall asleep, it was when you were, uh… when I was sleeping on top of you. It’s hard waking up alone, I think maybe my body thinks I’m going to get captured again if I’m alone, or something like that,” Wooyoung managed through his hesitation. The words burned coming through his throat. He hated displaying this much vulnerability, especially in front of San.</p><p>“Yeah, no, that makes sense,” San said calmly, not reacting in any particular way or the other. He reached his arms around Wooyoung’s waist, steadying him. “Can you stand?”</p><p>Wooyoung found the floor underneath his feet, pulling his weight up without San’s support. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’m sleep deprived, not dying.”</p><p>Their sigils lit the way like nightlights, guiding them through the bedroom door. Wooyoung collapsed immediately into the comforter, sinking his head down into the soft pillow. It already felt better than the couch, but there was no guarantee that a warm bed would quell his demons so easily. San slipped into the other side, pulling the blanket over himself. </p><p>Wooyoung’s eyelids felt heavy, like they were being weighed down by sandbags, and his chest ached from the force of hyperventilating. He let his body lead him as he moved towards San, head connecting with his chest, feeling San’s heartbeat beneath him. Warmth washed over him, and the comforter started to feel heavier as Wooyoung’s body sunk down further, pressing deeper into San’s chest with the force of his weight. He was barely conscious enough to register the familiar feeling of San’s hand stroking his back before the world dissolved away.  </p><p>
  <br/>
  
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>Sleeping in San’s arms became a routine. </p><p>Aside from the nights, they spent their days separately in the apartment, despite its small size. San mostly kept to his room, while Wooyoung had domain over the living room, puttering around on his phone between preparing breakfast, lunch, and dinner.</p><p>Wooyoung became something of a glorified personal chef-slash-slave for San now that they couldn’t go out to eat at all. Ever since he’d made curry for Yeosang, Wooyoung had revived a sense of joy in cooking—even if it was purely out of necessity—and San exploited every last drop of Wooyoung’s new hobby—not that Wooyoung wasn’t thankful for something to keep him busy. </p><p>San spent his days sulking around the apartment, grumbling about how he wished he could go to the bar—which was really code for not having anyone to fuck anymore. That was basically San’s reason for existing, as far as Wooyoung could tell. He cursed Wooyoung under his breath for cockblocking him, like any of this was <em> his </em> fault, walking around like a kicked puppy just because he couldn’t get laid for a few weeks.</p><p>Wooyoung usually just rolled his eyes in response, and San would proceed to banish himself to his own room, slamming the door like a toddler whose mom had taken away their iPad. Wooyoung imagined he was in there jerking off and crying pathetically. He probably was. </p><p>Their night routine felt more like a business transaction than anything. Wooyoung would head to the room around midnight, where San was usually already in bed, and crawl under the blankets into his usual spot. They hardly talked at night, unless they had been drinking a bit too much—which made Wooyoung talkative—but otherwise, Wooyoung was usually asleep within minutes from the gentle circular motion of San’s hand soothing between his shoulder blades, and the soft rise and fall of San’s chest from his breaths. </p><p>Wooyoung usually woke to an empty bed, with San already having roused to take a shower. Sometimes, though, he’d wake with his arm still draped heavily across San’s chest, blankets tangled at their feet, Wooyoung’s head nestled against San’s neck.</p><p>Like today, when he blinked his eyes open sleepily to the feeling of his hand fisted in San’s t-shirt, San’s arm curled around Wooyoung as they laid entangled with each other. Most mornings like this, Wooyoung would have wriggled away from his grip before San even had the chance to wake up to their intimate position. But this morning, Wooyoung felt entirely comfortable in San’s embrace, not quite ready to start his day. He let his eyelids drift closed lazily, still entirely awake, taking in the comfort of feeling connected to someone, even if it was with a man he only barely tolerated. </p><p>He felt San’s body shift underneath him, then San’s hand moving to stroke his back as if out of habit. </p><p>“Are you awake?” Wooyoung breathed quietly. </p><p>“Yeah,” San responded, his voice hoarse from sleep.  </p><p>“Can we stay like this for a bit? I’m comfy.” Wooyoung nuzzled up against San’s chest with his cheek. “Don’t wanna move.”</p><p>San stiffened under him, but Wooyoung could feel him nod, his chin connecting with the top of Wooyoung’s head.</p><p>They stayed there for a while, Wooyoung drifting in and out of half-consciousness, letting a dreamy haze blanket his limbs. He felt San shift again, the arm that was snaked around Wooyoung’s back dragging further down his body, hooking around his waist loosely. </p><p>“So…” San started, breaking through the thick silence, which was palpable, but comfortable.  “Have you been having nightmares, you know, since we—have you been waking up at all?”</p><p>“Only when you’re snoring, grandpa,” Wooyoung jested.</p><p>“Shut up. At least I can get a good night’s rest now without waking up to you screaming in the middle of the night.”</p><p>Wooyoung chuckled. "If you're really asking though, then, no. Not really. I mean sometimes, but it's not as bad. I can usually get back to sleep pretty quickly now."</p><p>"Good," San said, and for once, he seemed sincere. </p><p>It was these moments, though fleeting, that made Wooyoung think he might not detest San—his animosity towards him had faded to a dull distaste, if anything. </p><p>But, wrapped in his arms, clouded by a drowsy morning fog, Wooyoung could almost find himself liking the way it felt. Almost.</p><p>
  <br/>
  
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>Wooyoung found himself sprawled out over San, once again, snuggled cozily under the thick comforter. His right arm draped over San’s chest, hand resting over San’s abs just below his shirt, which had snaked its way up his torso while he slept. Soft orange light filtered through the bedroom windows, washing the bedroom over with a golden glow. </p><p>The air outside of their warm bubble was brisk, and Wooyoung pulled his arm tighter around San, lazily stretching his arm out until it bumped into—<em> oh god </em>—San’s dick, rock hard against Wooyoung’s palm, which recoiled the second it made contact.  San twitched sleepily underneath him, shifting his limbs underneath Wooyoung, who clung to San’s warmth like a crackling campfire on a cold night. </p><p>He became acutely aware of his own dick at the same time, which ached desperately with the familiarly uncomfortable sensation of morning wood. Usually, he would just ignore it for a few more seconds of rest or stumble out of bed to relieve it himself in the bathroom. Morning wood was inevitable for two guys sleeping in the same bed, but it was usually ignored by both of them. San hadn’t dared cross that boundary with Wooyoung since he rejected his advances at Hongjoong’s. </p><p>But the thought was enticing now, and Wooyoung’s dick twitched in his pants, reminding him of just how long it had been since he’d been satisfied by anything but his own hand. He’d spent several weeks sleeping in San’s bed every night, usually pressed up against him in some way in order to quell his nightmares, but the intimacy had an unexpected side-effect—Wooyoung’s body found itself craving more, wishing the touch was more than just innocent. </p><p>Wooyoung felt the way San’s gaze lingered on him just a bit too long when Wooyoung tossed his shirt over his head before bed, dragging his eyes up and down with a hungry stare. He felt the way San squirmed under him when he accidentally brushed up against his dick while they were cuddling—but Wooyoung knew San wouldn’t try anything with him. It was Wooyoung’s move. </p><p>As if moving on its own, Wooyoung’s hand crawled underneath the hem of San’s tee, pushing up to brush against his abs. </p><p>Just as Wooyoung needed comfort so many nights before this one, his body needed something else now—intimacy, desire, release. His lips found San’s neck, delivering soft kisses along the surface, starting from his jaw. </p><p>“Wake up,” Wooyoung whispered between soft kisses, trailing them down San’s neck and collarbone. His hand pressed down on San’s abs. “San, wake up.” </p><p>“Mm?” San mumbled groggily, then uttered a small groan of pleasure, melting under Wooyoung’s lips as they dragged against his collarbones. </p><p>San’s hands fumbled over the curve of Wooyoung’s waist, grasping clumsily at his sides and pulling Wooyoung into him to indicate that he wanted more, letting deep moans push through his throat. Wooyoung let his hand continue to creep under San’s shirt until it was dragging across his chest, grasping needily at the skin. </p><p>“Mm, where did this come from?” San breathed, voice deep and gravely from sleep, pulling Wooyoung in closer. Wooyoung’s hands traveled on their own, pressing over San’s cock, tented and alert in his underwear. </p><p>Wooyoung spoke between lazy kisses, lingering his lips against San’s skin, sweat-slick from the heat of their bodies during the night. “Does it matter?” he purred. “You wanna fuck or not?”</p><p>San’s breath hitched audibly in his throat. “Y-yeah, wh—mm,” San mumbled incoherently as Wooyoung palmed his cock through his underwear, then pushed the band down, letting it spring up against San’s stomach. It was warm in his hand, and he grasped around it, stroking lazily. He was more awake now, but his eyelids still felt heavy with the remnants of sleep, and his limbs hadn’t quite caught up with him yet. </p><p>“Good,” Wooyoung breathed, letting hot puffs of air wash over San’s collarbones before letting his kisses wander back up to the crook of San’s neck, sucking and marking the skin. He continued to stroke San’s dick, reveling in how it twitched beneath his touch, listening closely for San’s moans singing his praises. </p><p>He slid down, taking the covers with him, littering San’s stomach with kisses until he reached his dick, slick with precum. Wooyoung took a precursory lick, then sunk down without hesitation. One part of him wanted to savor the experience, the other, hornier part, just wanted it <em> now </em>.</p><p>“<em>Fuck</em>,” San growled above him, voice still rough, threading his hands lazily in Wooyoung’s hair, which fell around his eyes to frame his face in a messy, sleep-tousled nest. A string of soft <em> mms </em>dripped from San’s tongue, encouraging Wooyoung to push further, twisting his tongue around San’s cock as he worked. </p><p>He pulled off slowly, pulling his hand away to part his lips with his index finger, slicking it with a thick coating of spit as he pushed it in his mouth, making hooded eye contact with San while he did it. San’s eyes were puffy and lidded with the remains of sleep, looking on Wooyoung with a lustful gaze. </p><p>Wooyoung pulled his mouth back over San’s dick, licking shallowly at the tip as his finger found its way to his own entrance, pushing in to finger himself as he worked at San’s dick. </p><p>“That’s fucking hot,” San mumbled, grasping Wooyoung’s hair tighter with one hand, the other dragging his fingertips down the nape of his neck, sending chills rocketing down his spine.</p><p>The praise only made him work harder, pressing his tongue hard against the underside of San’s dick as he licked a trail carefully from tip to base, letting his moans vibrate against his cock as he fingered himself with the other—only making him more desperate for more. </p><p>He channeled his former self, from his days of flirting mercilessly with guys at the club, grabbing the attention of every guy in a 50-foot radius. He’d always thrived off the attention, off the way eyes followed him as he strutted across the floor. Wooyoung couldn’t even remember the last time he’d paid for his own drink before he stopped visiting clubs entirely—he was the star of the show, every time, and he loved the high he got from having all eyes on him. </p><p>That’s why he loved the praise now as San moaned above him, loved the way San’s eyes were glued to him like he was the only thing in the room, loved the way San’s fingers gripped desperately at the strands of his hair, pulling like he needed Wooyoung <em> closer, </em> somehow. </p><p>“Who knew you were so filthy, hmm? Fuck, you look<em> so good </em>,” San growled yanking Wooyoung's head up slightly as he pushed down further towards the base of his cock. “Eyes on me, human.”</p><p>Wooyoung glanced up through wispy lashes, the beginnings of tears glistening at the corners of his eyes from the way San’s dick scraped the back of his throat. He watched Sans hooded gaze, the way his eyelashes fluttered, eyes resisting rolling back entirely. </p><p>He forgot how good it felt to put on a show like this, slipping a second finger in, letting it bury inside him to the knuckle. San was melting like putty under his touch, unable to tear his eyes away from Wooyoung sliding in and out of himself with his spit-slicked fingers, exaggerating every movement just for the fun of it, simultaneously twisting his tongue around the shaft of San’s dick. </p><p>He pulled off San’s dick slowly once San started gripping his hair a bit too hard—Wooyoung didn't want to cut his fun short, after all. He released his finger from himself at the same time, locking eyes with San again with a sly smile. </p><p>“C’mere,” San breathed, hooking his hands under Wooyoung’s arms, tugging him upwards. </p><p>San fumbled in his nightstand blindly as Wooyoung came up to meet him, pressing fresh kisses against San’s jaw as he waited. He procured a bottle of lube from a drawer, and squeezed some onto his cock, letting Wooyoung’s hand slide over it to distribute it evenly.</p><p>Wooyoung felt better than he ever imagined he would, already riding a high before San had even touched him. Wooyoung tugged his own underwear off, shaking it off his ankles and littering it somewhere in the bed, which was a mess of discarded clothes and tangled blankets. But Wooyoung couldn’t think of that, he could only think of the way San shoved him lazily onto his side, lining up with him so that his ass was pushed up against San’s dick. </p><p>He lined his hands at Wooyoung’s hips and tugged, aggressively yanking Wooyoung’s ass towards him. Wooyoung let out a small yelp of surprise at the rough way San handled him—a way that had his head spinning. San maneuvered Wooyoung’s body around the bed like he weighed practically nothing. </p><p>Wooyoung could feel San’s hot breath steaming against his neck as his cock ground up against his ass. The tip connected with his entrance after a few sloppy thrusts, slipping in easily with the assistance of the lube. He pushed in shallowly, listening to Wooyoung’s broken whimpers fall out onto the pillow. San’s grip tightened on Wooyoung’s ass, squeezing the soft flesh as he sunk in. </p><p>“You’re so fucking sexy,” San moaned against his neck, placing rough kisses against Wooyoung’s shoulders, grazing his teeth slightly against the surface. His thrusts were slow and lazy at first, fucking into Wooyoung with a rythym that was both incredible and tortuous. </p><p>Wooyoung cried praises into the pillow as San picked up the pace. His hands traveled all over Wooyoung’s body, grasping at the surface like he couldn’t get Wooyoung close enough, digging his fingernails in like he wanted <em> more </em>. His hands grazed down to Wooyoung’s thigh, tugging it up over San’s hips, pulling Wooyoung on top of him so that his back was pressed against San’s chest. </p><p>San’s lips pressed against Wooyoung’s ear, and Wooyoung could hear every sound, every moan, every growl, every praise. San’s cock slid in and out, intensifying the sensation by their new position, and Wooyoung couldn’t suppress the breathy whimpers that slipped out as San picked up the pace, fully awake now as he fucked into Wooyoung roughly. </p><p>San’s left hand grasped lightly around Wooyoung’s cock, which slapped against his stomach as San thrust into him, giving a few sloppy strokes as his other hand found its way around Wooyoung’s neck, enclosing around it with barely any pressure at first—his ultimate weak spot. Wooyoung melted into his touch, moaning and squirming as all the sensations compounded. San barely needed any pressure before a headrush flooded through Wooyoung’s skull, sending him soaring. </p><p>“Look at you, so pathetic. You like when I do that? Is that all it takes to drive you crazy?” San teased in Wooyoung’s ear, reveling in the way Wooyoung’s eyes nearly rolled to the back of his head when San applied pressure around his throat. “Waking me up just ‘cause you want me to fuck you so bad, hmm?”</p><p>Wooyoung could only whimper, unable to form words between the pressure around his throat and the pleasure flooding his body, overtaking his senses entirely. </p><p>A knot formed in his core as San fucked into him with alarming force, his fingers wrapped tightly around Wooyoung dick, twisting in rhythm with the way Wooyoung's body jostled above his chest. He let out a trembling cry as the knot traveled slowly down past his stomach, sending electricity through his limbs. </p><p>“Fuck—<em>ah</em>—” Wooyoung cursed as thick ribbons of cum spilled over, coating his chest in satisfying strips of white. </p><p>He felt San’s lips twitch into a smirk against his ear, increasing his own pace now, keeping his hand placed firmly against Wooyoung’s throat to steady him as his thrusts grew rougher. “You’re so fucking tight,” San moaned, letting each word drip off his tongue like honey. “<em>F</em><em>uck.” </em></p><p>“Inside,” Wooyoung managed to choke out beneath San’s tight grip. “<em>Inside</em>.”</p><p>"Fuck," San growled, dragging his teeth along Wooyoung's earlobe. "You want me to fill you up, too?"</p><p>San tightened his fingers around Wooyoung's neck, applying the perfect amount of pressure on the side with his fingertips to keep Wooyoung's head soaring with a post-orgasmic high, the lack of oxygen intensifying every sensation. San cursed brokenly as he rutted his hips into Wooyoung with slow, deliberate thrusts, reaching as far as possible into him.</p><p>Wooyoung felt the warmth of cum, dripping out at the seams of where San’s cock was buried inside him. San slipped out slowly, loosening his grip around Wooyoung’s neck, who rolled off San’s body, collapsing at his side in fatigue. His breaths came out in harsh pants, burning his face in the pillow exhaustedly, and his limbs burned in the best way, endorphins swelling in his chest and blanketing him in pleasure. </p><p>They left a mess of the bed, sweat and cum and lube everywhere. Wooyoung laid for a moment at San’s side, some of their limbs still entangled as he recovered his stamina. </p><p>What a way to wake up. </p><p>He turned around to face San, not exactly sure what he was going to say after that—he’d barely had a chance to think it over before rousing San from his sleep. It all just<em> happened, </em> so fast, so fast that it almost felt like a dream, like he hadn’t fully woken up in the first place. </p><p>A heavy relief blanketed Wooyoung the second he locked eyes on San, who was already passed out at his side, drooling puddles into the pillowcase. Wooyoung slinked out of the bed, carefully untangling their limbs from each other, so as not to wake him. He felt like his knees would crumble underneath him the minute he put his weight on them. He’d forgotten how exhausting this sex thing was, though his body rushed with a satisfied high. </p><p>The post-sex shower was surreal, a mixture of sore limbs, soaring endorphins and a metric fuckton of regret. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy it—he was ashamed to admit that was some of the best sex he’d ever had, although that may have been just because it had been so long he forgot how it was supposed to feel. </p><p>Wooyoung found himself in the kitchen after getting dressed in a fresh set of pajamas, realizing how ravenous the sex had made him. Bacon sizzled on one burner, the other busy frying eggs, and the toaster ejected two neatly browned pieces of toast. </p><p>Almost on cue to the <em> ding </em>of the kitchen alarms, San emerged from the bedroom, clumsily slipping into a pair of boxers. </p><p>He glanced up at Wooyoung, who was blinking back incredulously.</p><p>A smug grin pulled across his face. “This is gonna sound kinda dumb, but… did I sleep naked or did we fuck?”</p><p>Wooyoung scoffed, averting his eyes dramatically, as if San’s cock wasn’t just buried in his ass barely an hour before. “What do you think?”</p><p>San smirked as he approached the counter, slipping into the stool and leaning his elbows against the table amusedly. “Oh, making me breakfast after sex? What are you, my wife?”</p><p>“If I was your wife I probably wouldn’t have fucked you in the first place.”</p><p>San cupped his chin in his hands, leaning in further. His broad shoulders were on full display, the curves of his muscles reflecting the soft kitchen lights, glistening and sticky with the remnants of sweat. “Oh, don’t act like you weren’t practically begging for it.”</p><p>For a moment, Wooyoung was afraid than San might start acting awkward around him after they fucked, before remembering that this was <em> San </em>. His whole life was an unending string of meaningless fucking—San wouldn’t know a romantic feeling if it smacked him in the face. In fact, when it came to no-strings-attached sex, there probably wasn’t a more perfect choice. </p><p>“I don’t have to make you breakfast, you know,” Wooyoung replied, slinging the freshly-prepared plate towards San’s seat, then flashing an exaggerated grimace. “Put some clothes on first. You’re gonna make me lose my appetite.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>and~~~~ things finally get spicy </p><p>wooyoung: sleeps in san's arms every night for weeks<br/>also wooyoung: i-its not like I like you or anything</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. ophidia in herba</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p>“Alright, so I’ll see you back here in 3 days then, and hopefully we can get that fourth seal broken. It just needs a bit of tweaking first.”</p><p>Wooyoung hovered his hand over the paper, the pen shaking slightly beneath his fingertips. “S-sorry, what day is it today?”</p><p>“Friday,” Yunho responded with a friendly grin.</p><p>“Right. Sorry, I think we’ve been cooped up so long in that apartment I guess they’re all blurring together,” Wooyoung chuckled, scribbling down the date on the notepad. “Okay, see you on Monday then.” </p><p>Wooyoung glanced up to the door, noticing San had already left without even saying goodbye. Wooyoung could hardly imagine what he was so eager to go home to. </p><p>Wooyoung dug in his pocket quickly, then turned back to Yunho. “Wait—before I go, there was something—I wanted you to look into something for me, if you could.”</p><p>“Sure, anything.”</p><p>Yunho retrieved the folded paper from between his fingers, slowly opening it to reveal a chaotic scribbling that vaguely resembled Wooyoung’s sigil. “What is this?” He asked, studying the lines carefully. “It doesn’t look like a seal.”</p><p>Wooyoung suddenly realized they were all so focused on cracking the seals, that he hadn’t bothered explaining to Yunho the reason he was immortal in the first place, or what his sigil had to do with it. “No, it’s not a seal, it’s our—it’s a sigil we both have, on our palms. It connects us. It’s why I’m immortal.”</p><p>“What? I’ve never noticed a—”</p><p>“You wouldn’t be able to see it. It’s kind of a long story.”</p><p>Yunho nodded, folding the paper back up between his fingers. “I figured. But yes, I’ll look in my research and see if I can find any information about it. Is there anything you’re looking for specifically?”</p><p>“Anything,” Wooyoung said firmly. “Call me if you find <em> anything</em>.”</p><p>“Got it,” Yunho agreed, beaming with his sunshine smile. “I’ll call you if I find anything.”</p><p>“Thanks.”</p><p>
  
</p><p>San and Wooyoung may have been stuck in the apartment, but there was nothing in their unofficial rulebook about not having people over. San begrudgingly agreed to Yeosang stopping by for a bit when they got back from Yunho’s, on the condition that Wooyoung brought him some of the food they made as room service. </p><p>Wooyoung had banished San to the room as soon as they got home, so that he and Yeosang could cling to whatever semblance of privacy was possible around the place. If they talked quiet enough, they could get away with it, especially if Wooyoung was making noise in the kitchen.</p><p>Yeosang brought over a few things, though San’s fridge was nearly stocked thanks to their new routine. Yeosang took a seat at the counter stool while Wooyoung prepared stir-fried noodles in the kitchen. They chatted casually at first, with Wooyoung directing the conversation towards his former-best-friend's new life, which he felt so out of touch with now. He steered clear of anything about himself or San, but it wasn’t long before Yeosang started to dig.</p><p>“So… what’s with the couch?” Yeosang said, filling a moment of silence. “No more blankets or pillows, I see?”</p><p>“Oh—I, uh—” Wooyoung started, fully intending to follow up with a lie, but Yeosang cracked a suspicious smile in front of him. Of course, he’d known Wooyoung practically his whole life—he could tell when Wooyoung was lying. “I’ve been sleeping in San’s room.”</p><p>Yeosang tipped an eyebrow up playfully, an amused grin playing up on the corners of his mouth. “Oh, I see. Told you he was your type.”</p><p>“Oh, no, it’s not like that, seriously—”</p><p>“Wooyoung. Don’t act like I wasn’t there during your clubbing days. I know how you are,” Yeosang teased, taking an innocent sip at his drink, then glancing back up with a sly gleam in his eyes. “I know that look. That glow. You guys are totally fucking.” </p><p>Wooyoung’s cheeks lit up an incriminatingly bright red. “No—no—” He glanced up at Yeosang, his expression confirming that denial was futile. “Okay, yes.”</p><p>“Fucking knew it.”</p><p>“<em>Once </em> ,” Wooyoung hissed, lowering his voice to a pseudo-whisper. “It was <em> once</em>.”</p><p>“But you’re totally gonna do it again, right?”</p><p>“No—maybe—no. I don’t know. Maybe. It’s been a few days, but we haven’t done anything else. I’ve… well, I’ve kind of been avoiding him.”</p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>“Like, I go to bed late, and then I wake up early so I’m never in the bed when he wakes up. I mean, it’s not like the sex wasn’t good—it was <em> great, </em>actually—but I don’t know if I’m ready to do it again. I don’t know.”</p><p>Yeosang kept his smug grin. “You’re totally gonna fuck again.”</p><p>“Shut up,” Wooyoung hissed, but his tone was playful. </p><p>Yeosang shrugged innocently. “Just sayin’.”</p><p>Wooyoung tipped the pan, depositing the noodles on two plates. Just as he reached for a small bundle of green onions from the fridge, his phone buzzed across the kitchen, rattling against the countertop. He slammed the fridge door closed, reaching for it quickly. His eyes widened when he saw the name on the caller ID.</p><p>“Yunho?”</p><p>“Wooyoung. Hi. I, well… I found something on that symbol you gave me to look into.”</p><p>Wooyoung shot a fleeting glance up at Yeosang, who was eyeing the noodles like a hungry animal. He gripped the phone tighter in his palm. “And?”</p><p>“You might wanna come in for this. Like, now.”</p><p>
  
</p><p>They found themselves at the ornate entrance to <em> Mystic Arcanum </em> for the second time that day. Jongho cocked his head to the side as they swung through the door, letting the bell ring out, stumbling past the overwhelming table displays and making a beeline for the back door. Usually, Wooyoung was friendly with Jongho, even striking up a conversation every time he accompanied San for his check-ins, but this time, he ignored him completely, his heart pounding too fast at the cryptic way Yunho had announced his discovery over the phone.  </p><p>“You didn’t tell me you asked Yunho to look at the sigil,” San grumbled through his teeth as they navigated toward the backroom. </p><p>“What, jealous that I’m talking to Yunho without you?” Wooyoung responded dryly. “It wasn’t like I was hiding it from you, San. You just never seem to care about stuff like this. I meant to give it to him while you were still in the room, but you were already out the door before our appointment was even over.”</p><p>“Fine, whatever. Just tell me next time. This affects both of us, you know.”</p><p>Wooyoung pushed through the door, choosing to ignore San entirely.</p><p>“You made it,” Yunho said with a sweet smile, but Wooyoung sensed unease beneath Yunho’s usually-cheery surface. </p><p>“Yeah, sorry to bother you so late, I know your shop closes in a few—”</p><p>“No, no, that’s okay. I’m usually here after hours, anyway.” </p><p>Yunho gestured to the single stool, which San usually took during their appointments. Wooyoung took a hesitant seat. </p><p>Wooyoung gulped, shifting in the stool uncomfortably in a poor attempt to mask his anxiety. “So, what did you find out?”</p><p>Yunho nodded slowly, drawing his gaze towards his shoes. “You see, when you gave this to me, I promised I’d look for it, but I already knew I hadn’t seen anything like this in my grandfather’s research, or even in my great-great-great-grandfathers. I’ve combed through their research so many times I’ve practically memorized every page.” He scrambled through a messy stack of parchment on his desk, digging out an ancient book, bound in old red leather. “But, I took a look in some of my older research books—I’m talking archaic, here. And, you see, most of this information is so outdated that I don’t really even bother to look at it anymore, but…” </p><p>The book was coated in a thick layer of dust, obscuring any title it may have had. Yunho flipped carefully through the yellowed pages, which were so brittle with age that they looked like they would snap in half if you handled them too roughly. </p><p>“But?” Wooyoung urged.</p><p>“But…” Yunho located a page, then swiveled the book on his knee towards Wooyoung, who leaned in, squinting his eyes at the unidentifiable scribings. The whole page looked like it was written in ancient hieroglyphs. Yunho’s index finger dragged across the page, pointing to the faint drawing of a symbol, which bore a striking resemblance to the sigil. “I found this. There isn’t much information here, but… what I can tell you is… it’s not good.” </p><p>Wooyoung gulped. Whatever it was, it couldn’t be much worse than Hongjoong telling him his brain would turn to mush if they didn’t crack these seals in time. Right?</p><p>“So, what is it?”</p><p>Wooyoung’s eyes followed Yunho’s index finger as it traced a few lines next to the symbol.“The writings seem to point to some sort of sickness. It doesn’t specify too much, and a lot of this is too ancient to be translatable, but I was able to pick out the terms ‘cough’ and ‘delirium’.”</p><p><em> Cough and delirium. Sickness </em>. It was just as Hongjoong said, though in much less certain terms. </p><p>Wooyoung’s eyes went wide. “Does it say anything else?”</p><p>Yunho averted his eyes nervously. “It says, uh, it says—'consumption within a year'.”</p><p>Wooyoung’s heart seemed to stop in his chest. He felt like he was at the doctors, just been given a month to live—except Wooyoung’s fate, according to Hongjoong at least, was much worse than death.</p><p>“A<em> year? </em> I’ve already had this thing for almost four months now. And didn’t you say the sixth seal alone could take months, if not <em> years </em> to crack?”</p><p>Yunho nodded soberly. “Yes, I did. I’m sorry. I promise, I’m working as fast as I can, but each seal is different. Especially the last two. Even the fifth could take me up to six months—”</p><p>“And I have 8.”</p><p>“Shit,” San muttered at his side. </p><p>“Don’t act like this isn’t your fucking fault,” Wooyoung snapped, overwhelmed by the weight of the news he was just delivered. </p><p>“If it wasn’t for me, you would have been dead, you know.”</p><p>Wooyoung narrowed his eyes, shooting a venomous glance in San’s direction, who was standing above him, hand shoved in the pockets of his black slacks. “You know I <em> wanted </em>to die, asshole.”</p><p>Yunho cleared his throat uncomfortably, directing their attention back. Wooyoung went silent, and San cut in at his side. “So, does it say anything else?”</p><p>“The only other thing it says is ‘Failure to treat with Laudanum’.”</p><p>“Laudanum? What, is that like Thalidomide or something?” </p><p>“Fuck is that?” Wooyoung muttered under his breath.</p><p>“Thalidomide?” San repeated, as if Wooyoung should have known what the hell that was. “Like, in the sixties? Jesus, you guys are babies.”</p><p>“Alrighty, grandpa,” Wooyoung jested. “We get it, you’re a boomer.”</p><p>“How old are you, anyway?” Yunho blurted out, then quickly backpedaled. “Sorry, that’s probably really rude, I just meant—”</p><p>“No, it’s fine. Well, I mean, it’s a little hard to substantiate in human years, but, I’ve been <em> here, </em>on Earth, for over a century. But before that, I mean, if I had to guess… maybe 1,000… 2,000 years? I’m not sure.”</p><p>Wooyoung nearly choked. This was completely new information to him too—San didn’t usually divulge much information about his past, if anything. “Two<em> thousand </em>? Holy shit.”</p><p>“That’s amazing,” Yunho cooed, awe sparkling in his eyes. “Sorry—sorry. I guess I’m kind of a nerd about these things. I just—wow.”</p><p>“If you think that’s old, you should talk to Hongjoong. He was one of the original gods. I’d say he’s probably, what, like… 6,000 now, in human years?”</p><p>Yunho’s mouth gaped open, and his expression looked like he’d just been told Santa Claus was actually real all along. He searched blindly for a notepad on his messy desk, scribbling frenzied notes. </p><p>“Can—can we get back to the sigil? Sorry, I just—” Wooyoung cut in.</p><p>Yunho looked up from his notes, quickly discarding them on the floor next to his feet. “Right. Sorry. I mean, I wish I had more for you, but that was all I could find.”</p><p>“No, that’s fine,” Wooyoung said quietly, unable to contain the unease in his voice. “Thanks for everything. At least—at least I have somewhat of a timeline now.”</p><p>“I’m sorry, Wooyoung. I’m going as fast as I can with these seals, but I’m probably the only person on Earth right now who can do this job for you. If there’s anything else I can—”</p><p>“No. No, it’s okay. We’ll get out of your hair now. I’m sure you have a lot of work to do.” </p><p>Wooyoung placed his palms on his thighs as he hoisted himself to his feet, not expecting the way his knees buckled beneath him when he tried to stand. His legs were shaking, and his heart pounded against his chest furiously. He stumbled forward, knocking into San as he attempted to steady himself. San’s hand slipped around Wooyoung’s waist, the other supporting between his shoulder blades. </p><p>Wooyoung’s eyes flickered towards San's for a brief moment, and he could have sworn he saw something glimmering in his eyes.</p><p>Something like sympathy.</p><p>Something almost like… sadness? </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. faciam ut mei memineris</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p>Ever since Yunho had delivered him an 8-month worse-than-death sentence, Wooyoung struggled to keep himself afloat. </p><p>His usual pacing around the apartment, cooking meals and taking more than one shower a day strictly out of boredom was not cutting it anymore. He needed something else. He needed a distraction. Even San’s gentle touch lulling his mind into a dreamy trance at night was not enough to keep the anxiety from crawling up through his chest, bringing him an entirely new set of nightmares to worry about.</p><p>It had been a full week since Wooyoung woke San up in a horny daze, and Wooyoung was already starting to feel the full effects of re-awakening his dick only to deny it again. Before then, he’d all but forgotten what he was like before the grips of his depression dragged him into unwilling abstinence—confident, flirty, able to turn every eye in the room in his direction just by carding his hand through his hair while wearing a slightly-too-low cut shirt. </p><p>He didn’t just remember it now, he missed it. He missed the attention. He missed—no, he <em> craved </em>—the high of getting everything he ever wanted with a flirtatious wink. He craved the feeling of walking into a room like he was the only one that existed. And, in the absence of being able to go to clubs, he was stuck with an audience of one—he’d pulled harder crowds before, he supposed. </p><p>But above all else, putting his whole effort into flirting mercilessly with San was a welcome distraction to the slow spiral that started the moment Yunho had spelled his fate out in no uncertain terms. </p><p>So Wooyoung decided to have some fun: just him, San, and a little too much wine over dinner. </p><p>It was little things, all night. It was wearing the lowest cut shirt he had—a silky lavender button-up—leaving the top few buttons undone so it just barely teased out his collarbones at the top. It was sticking his ass out as he leaned over the counter to check his recipe on his phone. It was slowly slipping his hand through his silvery-blonde locks every so often to reveal the cut of his jaw right in San’s eyeline.</p><p>Wooyoung was uncharacteristically playful over dinner, letting him and San’s usual banter veer into flirting territory. Wooyoung had even donned his signature eyeliner look for the evening, despite having no plans to leave the house, as usual—he even threw on a few silver dangly earrings he hadn’t worn in ages. </p><p>He stood up from the table after depleting his wine glass, fiddling with the buttons of his shirt the second he turned away from San, letting the third button slip out of its hole so that the blouse’s low v-line deepened even further. He adjusted his shoulder slightly so that the shirt fell loosely off of one side. He turned at the edge of the counter into the kitchen, keeping his eyes on San as he did so.</p><p>He knew exactly what he was doing when he leaned his elbows against the countertop, letting the shirt slip farther off his shoulders, exposing both collarbones fully as he reached exaggeratedly for the wine bottle across the counter. </p><p>He watched San’s eyes travel from his face down to his collarbones, tracing the low cut of Wooyoung’s shirt with his gaze. Wooyoung suppressed a satisfied grin at his plan, which was going, so far, without a hitch. </p><p>“Want some more wine?” Wooyoung asked, keeping his tone teetering the edge between playful and flirtatious. </p><p>San cleared his throat, pushing his gaze downwards to the empty dinner plate. “Uh, sure, yeah.”</p><p>Wooyoung cracked a smug smirk. He wouldn’t let up now. He let the wine glass balance delicately between his fingers, letting the burgundy liquid trickle into the glass. Once he was done, he tipped the bottle upright, allowing a small amount of wine graze the side of the glass, dribbling down the edge. </p><p>“Oh, oops,” Wooyoung cooed. He swiped the tip of his index finger slowly across the delicate edge of the glass, collecting the droplet of wine on his fingertip. </p><p>He pulled his eyes back up to San beneath fluttering lashes, dragging his finger along his lips to part them before swirling his tongue around it, then sucking it clean with a slow motion in and out. He reveled in the way San’s eyes went wide with a look of realization. </p><p>Wooyoung pulled around the counter, wine glass in hand, when he noticed San pushing away from the table, sending the wooden dining chair skidding across the hardwood with a harsh squeak. San retrieved the wine glass from between Wooyoung’s fingers, slipping it out carefully and placing it with a <em> clink </em>against the countertop.</p><p>His gaze locked with Wooyoung’s as his hands slapped against the edge of the counter, caging Wooyoung against it with his body.</p><p>“Knock it off,” San scolded in a low growl, standing just close enough that Wooyoung could taste the fruity-sweet wine off his breath.</p><p>Wooyoung hummed innocently. “Knock what off?”</p><p>San’s grip tensed against the counter at Wooyoung’s side. His gaze was dark as he met his eyes. “You know what you’re doing. Being a fucking tease.”</p><p>“What if I don’t wanna knock it off?” Wooyoung challenged, a sly smirk playing up on his lips. </p><p>San’s eyes darkened, sparkling devilishly under the kitchen light. He leaned forward, letting his breath ghost over Wooyoung’s neck, then pulled his lips to Wooyoung’s ear. “I don’t have to be nice, you know.” </p><p>Wooyoung gave a dismissive scoff, doing his best to conceal the tremble in his voice from the shiver rolling down his spine. “What’s that supposed to mean?”</p><p>“It means I could make you fucking<em> shake </em>.” He shrugged dismissively, retracting his hand, finally allowing Wooyoung a moment to breathe. But truthfully, he could barely breathe at all—somehow, San knew all the right buttons to push. He read Wooyoung’s submissiveness like an open book. </p><p>San pulled back, and Wooyoung made a point to roll his eyes at San’s overconfidence.</p><p>“Oh, you think I couldn’t?” San breathed just inches from Wooyoung’s lips. “Trust me, human, I could have you crying and begging for more before your clothes even come off.”</p><p>Wooyoung’s eyes widened. His knees felt weak beneath him, but he couldn’t let San know what he was doing to him. This was supposed to be about <em> him. </em> This was supposed to be about getting some attention, a nice fun distraction.</p><p>“I guess you wouldn’t be able to handle me like that, anyway.”</p><p>He pulled away, swiveling on his heels slightly. </p><p>Wooyoung detested what San was doing to him. He wasn't even necessarily planning to fuck him tonight, just rile him up for the fun of it, like he used to back in his clubbing days. But now, it wasn't a question. He hated how much he wanted it—but he <em>wanted</em> it. He wanted it enough to compromise the power he'd tried so hard to pull in his favor.</p><p>“W-wait—” Wooyoung stuttered, catching San’s shirt from behind and pulling him back towards him with a harsh tug. San turned back around so his chest was nearly against Wooyoung’s, but not quite. He pushed his index finger against Wooyoung’s lips, blocking him before he had a chance to tug him in for a kiss. </p><p>His voice was deep and mocking as he spoke. “You had your chance, human. Should have taken it.” </p><p>Wooyoung blinked, not sure what to say. Was this the same San whose hands were all over him a week ago in bed, pulling him closer like he was his only source of oxygen? Wooyoung gritted his teeth. He lived for submission, but the real fun was in making his partner work for it. </p><p>“Don’t act like you haven’t been staring at my ass all night,” Wooyoung teased, trying to steer the power back to him before it slipped entirely from his grasp.</p><p>San kept a straight face, unblinking in Wooyoung’s stare. “And…?”</p><p>“And—”</p><p>“It’s so painfully obvious you want me to fuck you again, but you’re too good to ask now?” All semblance of words drifted from Wooyoung’s head. How had San flipped the tables on him again, just like that? “So…” San leaned in closer, letting his breath tickle against Wooyoung’s ear. “Do you?”</p><p>“Wh—”</p><p>“If you want me to fuck you, you’re gonna have to ask for it.”</p><p>Wooyoung opened his mouth to respond, but all that came out was an incomprehensible half-stutter.</p><p>San raised his eyebrows indifferently. “No? Hmm, okay then. Goodnight.” </p><p>
  <em> Fuck. </em>
</p><p>Fuck him for being so good at this—he’d had over a hundred years to practice, after all, and he knew right where to hit Wooyoung in his soft spot. He hadn’t even touched him, hadn’t laid a single finger on him—and yet he had him riled up beyond his control. Wooyoung’s knees felt weak underneath him, crumbling at the thought of San’s promise to make him shake. He was already delivering. </p><p>“San—wait—”</p><p>A smug smirk twitched up at the corners of San’s lips, sending Wooyoung’s blood boiling. He’d pinned Wooyoung right where he wanted him. He gritted his teeth together, embarrassed by how easily San had manipulated him. He fisted his hand into San’s shirt, who looked down at him with a mischievous glimmer in his eyes.</p><p>“Is there something you’d like to say?"</p><p>Wooyoung’s voice faltered, knees weak from the way San was staring at him like his prey. Wooyoung’s goal was to have San chasing after<em> him </em>. He wasn’t expecting for San to have him begging instead.</p><p>San’s hand rested gingerly underneath Wooyoung’s chin, tipping his gaze upwards with little more than a twitch of his thumb. “Words, <em> human </em>.”</p><p>
  <em> Fuck. </em>
</p><p>Wooyoung gulped, tightening his grip in San’s shirt, pulling him closer so that their lips nearly grazed, keeping his voice at a whisper while letting his hot breath wash over San’s lips. “I want… you to fuck me.”</p><p>“That’s the spirit,” San purred. “I thought you’d never ask.” </p><p>Wooyoung tugged him in for a kiss, but San reeled back. Fuck, what else? Wooyoung was practically begging for him, what else could he want?</p><p>San let his fingertips ghost across the fabric of Wooyoung’s blouse, lingering barely a centimeter over the surface of his skin. “Tell me you want me to touch you.”</p><p>“I’m not gonna—”</p><p>“Beg.”</p><p>Wooyoung’s eyes went wide, and his knees would have buckled under him if it weren’t for the counter keeping him propped upright. This was a kind of dominance Wooyoung didn’t know he wanted until it was standing there, inches from his face, smiling devilishly with that domineering grin. </p><p>Wooyoung gritted his teeth. “I want you to… touch me.” </p><p>San glared at him expectantly, cocking his eyebrow up. “You can do better than that.”</p><p>“Touch me, San. Please,” Wooyoung managed, practically grasping at San’s shirt for dear life, tugging him in. He’d need one more to sell it. He leaned in, nearly grazing San’s lower lip as he opened his mouth one more time. “Please.”</p><p>“That’s it,” San cooed, obviously amused.  </p><p>Wooyoung seethed under the surface at how easily San was able to flip the tables on him, but he pushed in anyway, crashing their lips together with exaggerated fervor. The payoff was sweet, like the remnants of the Merlot on their breath.</p><p>San reciprocated his enthusiasm tenfold, digging his nails into Wooyoung’s waist like he’d been holding back even more than Wooyoung had. The counter dug into Wooyoung’s back, but the only feeling that mattered was San against him, pushing against his chest, forcing his waist impossibly close.</p><p>He felt San’s thigh rub up against the crotch of his tight black jeans, applying dizzying pressure. Wooyoung whimpered against his lips, unable to contain his reaction to the sudden touch, melting beneath him. </p><p>“Already so helpless, and I’ve barely even touched you? Pathetic,” San breathed between kisses. </p><p>Wooyoung ignored him, instead fumbling disjointedly at the buttons of San’s shirt, practically tearing it off his body when he reached the bottom, tossing it somewhere across the floor. His fingers traced along the line of San’s tattoos, the seals he didn’t want to think about. Right now, the symbols on his chest were just tattoos. No magic, no seals—just lines etched into his skin, decorating his body—that <em> body </em>—an exquisite collection of muscles and perfectly bronzed skin. </p><p>Wooyoung was embarrassed by how much time it took him to finally admit to himself that he found San attractive—the kind of attractive that made it so damn hard to resist running his hands all over his body at night, admiring every well-sculpted curve. It was hard to deny now. </p><p>San's thigh pressed harder, so hard Wooyoung subconsciously ground against it. San tilted Wooyoung’s chin up with his fingertips again, the one hand still gripping at Wooyoung's waist beneath him, and began kissing down his jawline, letting his lips linger on the surface for far too long after each connection with his sensitive skin.</p><p>Wooyoung let out a surprised yelp as San’s hands hooked around the back of his thighs, hoisting him up onto the countertop with one swift heave. San shoved himself between Wooyoung’s legs, parting them so that his stomach was pressed against the bulge in Wooyoung’s jeans. San’s lips continued to mark down Wooyoung’s neck, leaving behind angry red marks as he sucked and bit at the skin. Wooyoung’s silky blouse slumped off his shoulders, the cuffs pooling at his wrists before San separated the last button. San’s chest was warm against his as they connected, and Wooyoung slung his arms around San’s neck as he sucked along the curve of Wooyoung’s collarbone. </p><p>The minute his shirt was off, San went to work on his jeans, fumbling desperately at the button. The zipper released with a <em> rip</em>, allowing Wooyoung’s throbbing cock to finally breathe the second San tucked the waistband down. Wooyoung helped his pants off with a light shimmy, immediately feeling the cool countertop against his skin as he readjusted. </p><p>San’s index finger hooked in the elastic waistband of Wooyoung's underwear, tugging it down aggressively, then skimmed his fingers across the surface of his cock, which bounced upright against his stomach.</p><p>“Tell me what you want, human,” San growled, keeping his touch torturously light. “Beg.” </p><p>“Why should I? You clearly can’t wait to fuck me,” Wooyoung gritted, surpressing the needy whimpers that threatened to spill over at the faintest touch. “Just do it already.” </p><p>San’s free hand threaded through Wooyoung’s hair, tugging at it to bring his eyeline upwards. “Has anyone ever told you you’re an insolent brat?” </p><p>Wooyoung’s lips twitched up into a smirk, causing San’s eyes to flare darkly, narrowing as they drew over Wooyoung’s smug expression. “Perhaps.”</p><p>San tugged at the locks again, keeping Wooyoung’s gaze firmly planted on him. “You have no <em> clue </em> what I’m capable of.” </p><p>“Oh, do your worst, almighty god."</p><p>“Don’t say I didn’t warn you. By the way, just say <em>R</em><em>ed </em> if it’s too much for your weak little human body to handle,” San purred in his ear, voice transitioning to a low growl. “Alright?”</p><p>Wooyoung gulped, realizing he may have gone too far in his provocation. This was a part of himself he was all too familiar with—his quick temper getting him into more trouble than he bargained for. Still, a part of him wondered what San’s <em> worst </em> actually was.</p><p>San swirled his thumb around the head of Wooyoung’s cock, which twitched beneath his fingertips, then wrapped his fingers tightly around it, giving a few slow, excruciating strokes. Wooyoung moaned against San’s neck, tightening his grip around his shoulders. San’s hand felt incredible—so much better than his own—and for a moment he questioned why he’d ever even started avoiding San in the first place. It had only been once, but he’d yet to disappoint. </p><p>“You look so sexy like this,” San praised in a low growl, his other hand traveling along the curve of Wooyoung’s waist. Wooyoung ate it up—this was what he wanted in the first place, after all. Attention. Praise. </p><p>“I think I’d look sexier with your cock in me, wouldn’t you agree?” Wooyoung flirted, navigating the words carefully between heated breaths. </p><p>“Don’t get ahead of yourself, human,” San said, eyes flashing mischievously. “We have all night.” </p><p>San’s grip grew tighter, but his pace stayed steady and slow, twisting on the upstroke, painting Wooyoung’s collarbones with marks and bruises as he worked. Wooyoung tipped his head back, letting the sensations compound, eating up every little detail. </p><p>San stopped suddenly, retracting his hand. Wooyoung cocked his head up, eyes threading together as San flashed a big smile.  </p><p>“Hey, wanna see a magic trick?” San offered with a mischievous wink, holding his palm open in front of Wooyoung, sigil glowing. Wooyoung barely had time to blink before a small bottle of lube appeared in San’s open palm. San beamed as if he’d just told the funniest joke of all time. </p><p>“You know it’s not impressive if I know how you did it,” Wooyoung said dryly. </p><p>San pouted, cupping the bottle in his other hand and squeezing some out on the tips of his fingers. “Well it’s no fun if you don’t play along.”</p><p>Wooyoung’s response was cut off before he even had a chance to open his mouth, all too distracted by the way San’s fingers swirled around his entrance, then dipped inside slowly. San pushed his index finger in all the way, and Wooyoung bit his lip to contain his desperate noises—he couldn’t give San the pleasure of working him up so easily. </p><p>“So tight,” San mused, already slipping the second in. “Just imagining how great you’ll feel around my cock.”</p><p><em> Fuck. </em> San was driving him crazy. Wooyoung braced against San’s neck for support as he started a rhythm around his cock again. He scratched at San’s back, dragging his nails over his tattoos, marking at the skin. Wooyoung was going to lose it, and they hadn’t even started fucking yet. </p><p>“S-san.”</p><p>“Yes<em>, human </em>?”</p><p>His cheeks went hot with embarrassment at how quickly San had worked him up. “I—I’m gonna—I’m gonna cum if you keep it up—<em>ah </em>...”</p><p>He expected San to pull back, let Wooyoung calm down a bit before going back in, but he quickened his pace, tightening his fingers around Wooyoung’s cock as he did so.</p><p>“It’s okay—go ahead, cum,” San urged calmly, pulling in against Wooyoung’s ear. “Cum for me." </p><p>Wooyoung’s head spun, unable to grasp why San was encouraging him to cum already, when they’d barely just started, but the knot in his stomach was close to bubbling over as San’s fingers worked mercilessly inside him, picking up a rough pace with his strokes. San slipped a third finger in, almost as if sensing Wooyoung was about to break. Wooyoung’s head tipped back, exposing his sharp jawline in San’s view, feeling the tight sensation in his stomach pull downwards to his—</p><p>“Oh, here’s another neat little trick,” San purred, gripping his hand tightly around Wooyoung’s cock just as the pressure built in his core, ready to spill over.</p><p>
  <em> What the fuck? </em>
</p><p>“San—” Wooyoung cried out, unable to control the volume of his voice, shifting disjointedly against the cold countertop. His fingernails clawed desperately at San’s back. “San, what the fuck did you—what the <em> fuck did you do</em>?”</p><p>San slipped his fingers out slowly. His lips twisted into an amused grin, pulling back to examine the expression on Wooyoung’s face. “Oh, that? It’s just a little time trick I wanted to try. Fun, right?” </p><p>“You <em> time froze </em>my dick?” Wooyoung panted, trying to control his breath as he squeezed his arms around San’s neck, practically keeping him in a chokehold. His whole body exploded with heat, stuck perpetually in a state of almost-climax. He could barely feel his own heart beat in his chest. </p><p>“Well now that I’ve broken more of my seals, I could keep this up for a lot longer, remember?” San pressed his lips up against Wooyoung’s ear again, pulling his tone back to a low growl.  “Mm, what was that you said about doing my worst?”  </p><p>“F-fuck you, fuck—<em>ah</em>—”</p><p>Wooyoung felt San’s lips smile against his ear, hand threading in his hair. “You cum when I say you can,<em> human </em>. Maybe if you weren’t such a brat earlier, I’d consider letting it go now.”</p><p>Wooyoung trembled against the cool countertop, the surface now damp with sweat. He had been edged before, but never like<em> this</em>. </p><p>"Sure you don't wanna tap out now?" </p><p>"Like hell," Wooyoung gritted. "This is—" His fingernails dug into San's back. "—nothing."</p><p>"Mhmm, we'll see about that," San mused, dragging his fingertips along the curve of Wooyoung's jaw, which was tensed uncomfortably. </p><p>San placed his hands at Wooyoung's hips, sliding him off the countertop and flipping him around with a quick jerk, shoving his torso against the edge of the counter until he was folded over it. </p><p>The beginnings of tears formed in Wooyoung's eyes, overwhelmed by the sensation of being stuck right on the verge of climax. It felt good—<em>too good</em>—so good that his body wasn’t going to be able to handle the feeling for much longer. He could barely form thoughts as San slipped his pants off. Wooyoung could hear the thick, wet sound of the lube being distributed over Sans cock before the head teased against his entrance. </p><p>Wooyoung cried out against the counter as San’s fingers dug into the soft skin of Wooyoung's ass, sliding in with one smooth motion. San growled above him, and Wooyoung practically passed out at the sensations compounded inside him. </p><p>"San, please—unfreeze it, <em> please</em>—" Wooyoung begged, but his pleads had no bearings. There was no way in hell he was going to give in, though. No way <em> red </em> would pass his lips. Not yet.</p><p>San rutted his hips in, pushing into the hilt, and Wooyoung moaned loudly, desperately searching for a grip on the slippery surface of the counter. His cock ached, <em> so, </em> so close to release as San’s thrust grew into a smooth rhythm. Wooyoung whimpered beneath San's motions, pleading incoherently for him to grant him the release. Drool pooled at the corners of his mouth, thoughts reduced to practically nothing, like he was short-circuiting. </p><p>“P—please, San, fuck, <em> please</em>—I need to cum—”</p><p>“God, do you ever shut up? So noisy,” San cooed, emphasizing his condescension. </p><p>One of his hands grasped tightly in Wooyoung's hair from behind, the other snaked around to caress Wooyoung's cheek, almost gentle for a fleeting moment, before two fingers hooked around the corner of his lips, pushing through forcibly. Wooyoung gagged lightly around San's fingers, muddling his whines and moans as San's cock continued to slide in and out, bottoming out completely inside him with every thrust. </p><p>San released his fingers from Wooyoung's mouth, and Wooyoung sputtered as he found air. Tears streamed involuntarily down his cheeks, and the back of San's hand swiped over his cheek, smearing then across his face.</p><p>“Told you I'd have you crying and begging for me.”</p><p>Sans hands found Wooyoung's, which fumbled on the countertop, unable to find a good grip. His palms slid over the back of Wooyoung's, threading his fingers over them to keep Wooyoung held down. Wooyoung's cheek pressed to the counter, head soaring with an overwhelming high, eyelids fluttering as he fought his eyes from rolling all the way back in his head.</p><p>“Fuck, please, I cant—” Wooyoung breathed, his breath steaming against the countertops. “Let me cum—”</p><p>“Are you done being a brat?” San asked calmly, keeping his hands pressed firmly down on Wooyoungs.  </p><p>“Yes—yes, I’m done, I just—please.”</p><p>“Hmm, alright.”</p><p>A wave of relief blanketed Wooyoung’s body at the promise of a release, and he melted into the countertop the second San’s hands let up the pressure against his own. His whole body trembled, shaky moans spilling over. San’s fingers wrapped tightly around his cock, still frozen just at the moment of climax. His core ached like he’d just done three hours of crunches, his heartbeat felt simultaneously too fast and too slow at the same time. San gave a few thrusts beneath him, and he felt the familiar electricity ricochet through his limbs before his body released—finally, <em> finally, </em>released.</p><p>He shook violently as he came, spilling thick white ribbons on cum into San’s palm. His body went numb, vanishing underneath him, and his mind soared so high he wasn’t sure if he could come down. An incoherent string of curses and moans dripped off his lips, even after he’d exhausted every last drop of his orgasm.</p><p>San slipped out of him, and Wooyoung barely registered the sound of San stroking himself up to his own climax, painting Wooyoung’s back with warm spurts of cum. His vision went in and out, black static buzzing in a vignette around his eyes.</p><p>If Wooyoung wasn’t already doubled over the countertop, he would have collapsed to the floor. His bones were non-existent, and his mind refused to make words.</p><p>“C’mere,” San breathed softly, scooping Wooyoung up from under his armpits, his body limp and heavy with exhaustion. The minute he attempted to steady himself on his feet, the static vignette crept through his vision, knees giving out beneath him, and the world went silent. </p><p>When he blinked he was slumped on the floor, San kneeling next to him with his eyebrows threaded together in concern. “A-are you okay? You passed out for a second.”</p><p>Wooyoung managed a disoriented nod, opening his mouth without being quite sure what would come out. “Bed…?”</p><p>“Okay, come here.” </p><p>San let out a grunt as he scooped Wooyoung up, hoisting himself to his feet with Wooyoung slung in his arms in a familiar bridal carry. He barely registered being carried to the bedroom before San deposited him on the bed gently. San fumbled in his closet briefly, returning with a soft t-shirt and a small hand towel. He lifted Wooyoung up by his back, wiping the sticky residue off his skin before helping the shirt over his chest and arms, and then tossed him a pair of underwear, which Wooyoung slipped into drowsily beneath the heavy comforter. </p><p>“Thanks…” Wooyoung mumbled groggily. “Bed?” </p><p>“I-I was gonna take a shower.”</p><p>“No, with me,” Wooyoung said, lips forming into a pout. “Sleepy… cuddles.” </p><p>San nodded with a warm sigh, slipping in next to Wooyoung, who cozied up next to him, burying his head in San’s neck, taking in the comforting scent. San was warm against his sore muscles, like a heating pad. He felt San’s hand stroke his hair softly, whispering words he couldn’t quite make out as his mind started to drift away. </p><p> </p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>“San!” Wooyoung called loudly in the direction of the bedroom, where San was still passed out under the covers. “Saaaa—oh, you’re up.”</p><p>San emerged from the room just as Wooyoung called his name, lazily slipping a shirt over his head. “Yeah, I’m up. It smells good out here.”</p><p>Wooyoung fished in the fridge for the coffee creamer, filling two mugs to the brim and sliding one across the counter to San. “Thanks, I was just about to wake you up for breakfast.”</p><p>It was hard to focus on cooking when his eyes could only connect with the countertop they’d fucked on the night before, where San had almost killed him from edging him too hard and Wooyoung had passed out on the floor. </p><p>San slipped into the barstool. “So, uh, I kind of need to talk to you.”</p><p><em> Shit. </em> That was never good. </p><p>Wooyoung faked a calm exterior, not even bothering to pause what he was doing. “What is it?”</p><p>“I think—well, I think I might be coming down with something.”</p><p>Wooyoung cocked his head to the side, sliding a large plate of pancakes towards San. “Coming down with something? Like, you think you’re getting sick? With what, like, the flu?”</p><p>“I’m not sure. I’ve been feeling it a bit recently, but last night when I was laying in bed, it got really bad. My stomach felt kind of nauseous, and my cheeks felt hot. And my heart was beating faster than usual. I don’t know, I just felt… weird.”</p><p>“Huh.” Wooyoung muttered. “Well it’s not exactly like we can take you to the doctor. I’m sure you’ll be fine.”</p><p>San nodded, pushing away from the counter. “Yeah, you’re probably right. I’ll be right back. You can eat without me.”</p><p>San disappeared to the bedroom for a bit. Wooyoung scrubbed a few of his pots in the sink while waiting for San to come back—he prepared the food so painstakingly, after all. He at least wanted to eat together. </p><p>San emerged from the bedroom within only a few minutes, Wooyoung’s cell phone clutched in his hand. </p><p>“Oh, did I leave that in the room? Oops, I must have forgotten—”</p><p>San lifted the phone in his hand. “I called Yunho.”</p><p>Wooyoung blinked. “You called <em> Yunho? </em> About what?”</p><p>“I told him about my symptoms.”</p><p>Wooyoung sputtered, holding back a laugh. “Wait—you know Yunho’s not a doctor, right?” </p><p>“I know, it just—the symptoms seem to get worse when I’m around you, so I thought maybe it had something to do with our sigil. He said he wasn’t sure, but that I should monitor my temperature and make sure it doesn’t get worse or anything.” </p><p>They got worse around—<em> Oh my god.  </em></p><p>A lightbulb flashed in Wooyoung’s head. “What did you say your stomach felt like, exactly?”</p><p>“Like… a kind of churning feeling. Kind of tingly and bubbly, like a washing machine or something. It doesn’t hurt, though.”</p><p>Was San saying… he had<em> butterflies </em>?</p><p>“And it gets worse… when I’m around? What were the other symptoms again?”</p><p>“My face feels kind of hot, and I think my heart starts beating faster than normal. Makes my chest all tight. I don’t know. It’s been<em> decades </em>since I’ve caught a human sickness. And it wouldn’t make sense, either. We haven’t been going anywhere. So if you don’t have any symptoms—”</p><p>Wooyoung clenched his jaw, doing everything he could do to suppress a laugh. “San.”</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>Wooyoung turned off the water in the sink, gesturing for San to meet him in the kitchen. “Come here.”</p><p>San pulled around the counter, standing awkwardly in front of Wooyoung. “What are you doing?”</p><p>Wooyoung held out his right hand, sigil up, a sly smile creeping up on his face. “Testing something. Here, hold my hand.” </p><p>San reached his out hesitantly, placing his palm down against Wooyoung’s. “You feel it?”</p><p>San nodded furiously. “Yeah, right there. So you think it has something to do with the sigil, then?”</p><p>Wooyoung was right. San <em> wouldn’t </em> know a romantic feeling if it slapped him in the face<em>.</em> His entire life on Earth was one meaningless one night stand after the other. He’d never felt a "crush" before. </p><p>It was actually kind of adorable. Although Wooyoung couldn’t say he felt the same for San, his innocence in the field of romance was actually kind of entertaining, if not endearing.  Wooyoung could have a lot of fun with this, if he wanted. He wasn't worried about this becoming an issue, anyway. San's feelings were probably just a product of being locked up with him for so long. They wouldn't last. They couldn't last. It was San, after all. </p><p>Wooyoung flashed San a smile. “I think you’re gonna be just fine.”</p><p>“How do you know?”</p><p>Wooyoung leaned forward, planting a small peck on San’s lips, just to fuck with him. “It’s a human thing.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. amor tussisque non celantur</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p>7 months, 2 days.</p><p>That was how long Wooyoung had until his inevitable brain-death. Not that he was counting or anything. </p><p>Besides pondering his eventual demise, things around the apartment were business as usual—well, if <em> usual </em>included a whole lot of sex he wasn't having before. His mischievous flirting and subsequent rough fucking opened up an entirely new can of worms between him and San—one that couldn’t be undone. Once they passed that threshold of their relationship, there wasn’t any going back. Wooyoung wasn’t complaining.</p><p>Boredom bred during their downtime, which led to a deadly—and horny—combination. It had been nearly two weeks, and Wooyoung needed a lot more hands to count how many times they’d fucked in that time. </p><p>To Wooyoung’s surprise, their cynical, bantering dynamic remained intact, though he could tell San was acting more mild than before. Not only in day-to-day interactions, but sexually as well. Wooyoung didn’t push it, but ever since he’d passed out on the floor in front of him, San treated him more gently than Wooyoung knew he was capable of in bed—though San’s definition of gentle was not<em> gentle </em>by any means.</p><p>Morning sex became typical, with Wooyoung usually rousing San with the familiar dotting of kisses alone his neck and collarbone, palming at his crotch, his dick usually already alert in his pants. </p><p>Some mornings though, Wooyoung slipped out of bed early to take a shower and plod around the apartment before San was even up. It was nice, occasionally, to be able to pretend he had the place to himself for a bit. Wooyoung used to dread loneliness. It used to feel like a punishment, especially when he’d isolate himself from the world, but now, whatever semblance of alone time he could manage was a welcome escape. </p><p>The morning slipped away from him, and it was noon before he knew it. He’d spent most of the morning sitting by the windowsill, sipping his coffee and watching the clouds roll by past the highrises in the distance. For the first time in his life, Wooyoung actually appreciated the serenity of a peaceful morning. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d just <em> sat </em>without his thoughts spiralling into the abyss. But this morning, he barely remembered having a thought at all. It was nice.</p><p>He prepared lunch, realizing he hadn’t seen San at all yet. Usually, he’d stroll out of the bedroom by this time, barely clothed, poking around in the kitchen, slamming the fridge and sighing dramatically until Wooyoung offered to make him food. But this morning, it was quiet—too quiet. </p><p>He deposited two grilled cheeses—whipped together from the salvaged remains of their barren fridge—onto plates, fisting one in each hand before heading towards the bedroom. He rapped his foot against the wooden door, then turned the knob with his elbow. </p><p>"I made lunch, you want it in here or—San?" </p><p>San was nowhere to be seen, a large lump of blankets and comforter on the bed taking his place. </p><p>
  <em> Was he still asleep? </em>
</p><p>A weak cough sounded, and Wooyoung padded towards the bed hesitantly. "San? You up?"</p><p>He glanced around, just barely able to make out his hair peeking out between the comforter shoved up over his shoulders and the pillow his face was buried in. </p><p>"Put it on the nightstand," San grumbled, voice rough and weak. </p><p>"Did you just wake up?" Wooyoung asked apprehensively, setting the ceramic plate down on the nightstand. </p><p>"I don't feel good," San pouted.</p><p>"Like… uh, like before?"</p><p>Wooyoung had never actually told San what he was experiencing before wasn't actually <em> sickness </em> . He simply brushed it off as a human thing San wouldn’t care about, and that it would go away eventually. And that was just it—he was hoping San's feelings would fade before he brought it up again. Though <em> this </em> reaction felt a little dramatic for a crush. </p><p>"I don’t think so,” he sighed. “My nose is stuffed up, my throat hurts, and my body <em> aches </em>.”</p><p>Wooyoung took a gentle seat at the edge of the bed, his back connecting with San’s form. “Well, that sounds like a cold to me. If you’re not up to going anywhere, I could probably convince Yeosang to drop off some cold medicine on his way home from work.” </p><p>San nodded furiously, hair ruffling against the pillow. <em> What a drama queen. </em></p><p>“This human body fucking sucks,” San groaned. “I hurt everywhere.”</p><p>“Relax, you big baby. It’s just a cold. We all get them,” Wooyoung chuckled, rubbing the mound of blankets.</p><p>San let out an exaggerated sigh in response, shifting underneath the messy comforter mound. </p><p>“Well, let me know if you need anything, I guess,” Wooyoung said, hoisting himself up from the mattress. “You should eat before it gets cold.”</p><p>San poked his head out from the blanket cave, peering at Wooyoung with puffy eyes, then to an empty glass on the nightstand. He let out a weak cough—for dramatic effect, Wooyoung guessed. “Bring me water?”</p><p>Wooyoung rolled his eyes playfully, swiping the cup from the nightstand. </p><p>When he returned with a cool glass of water, San roused from his cozy bubble, heaving his back up against the pillows for support. There was something so innocent in the way he looked now, eyes swollen and red, face flushed, hair a tangled mess. How the hell was this the same San he knew—the one who abhorred human vulnerability, the one whose ego trumped every other aspect of his personality, the one that Wooyoung once hated more than anything? </p><p>“You know, I really feel like your housewife right now,” Wooyoung said dryly, setting the water on the nightstand and pushing the plate of food on San’s lap. “Bringing you food, refilling your water, taking care of you when you’re sick. You’ve lived nearly five times longer than me as a human, and you're this useless just from a <em> cold </em>?”</p><p>“I told you, it’s been decades since I caught a human illness,” San grumbled, taking a bite of the sandwich. “I’m not used to being so weak.”</p><p>“Mhm,” Wooyoung hummed, drawing his eyes across San’s pathetic state. He couldn’t explain what it was, but it was almost endearing how helpless he was.  </p><p>Wooyoung moved to stand up again, but San’s hand connected with his thigh, yanking him back down before he could find his feet on the floor. </p><p>“Wait.” </p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Sit with me while I eat?” Wooyoung’s face must have looked bewildered in response, because San quickly backtracked. “I—uh, I’m just bored. There’s nothing to fucking do around here.”</p><p>Wooyoung gritted his teeth. “Yeah, tell me about it. And fine, but I already put mine back in the kitchen when I got your water. Give me a second.”</p><p>He crawled under the covers when he returned with his lunch plate in hand. They ate in comfortable silence, with San every so often letting out a melodramatic sigh between coughs. When San was done, he slid the plate on the nightstand, then sunk back down under the covers.</p><p>San pushed his head onto Wooyoung’s lap, nuzzling into his thigh. San had spent many nights holding Wooyoung to scare his nightmares away, but this was the first time San had ever indicated that he wanted Wooyoung’s affection. </p><p>San’s eyelids drifted closed as his head found a comfortable position, and he strung his arm across Wooyoung’s thighs, trapping him down on the bed. Wooyoung sat frozen for a moment, unsure of what to do, before setting his hand gently on San’s head, slipping his fingers through the locks and petting his hair as San’s breaths quieted to a sleepy rhythm. </p><p>He wasn’t tired, but somewhere along the way, Wooyoung’s eyes drifted closed too, lulled away into a haze by San’s warm embrace around his legs. </p><p>He supposed he did always sleep best in San’s arms. </p><p>
  
</p><p>San's cold lasted a whopping six days, enough for Wooyoung to nearly implode from San whining too hard. He was truly pathetic when he was sick. It was nearly a full week of listening to San’s pitiful moaning, delivering soup to him in bed, and making sure he didn't accidentally overdose on cough syrup. Wooyoung would also stroke his back slowly at night, taking on the role of caretaker from San, who had spent the last month or so staving off Wooyoung's nightmares with his warm embrace. </p><p>Truthfully, Wooyoung knew he no longer needed San to fall asleep—his trauma from the kidnapping had somewhat dulled to an uncomfortable memory, but nothing he'd lose sleep over now. He probably could have slept a full night on the couch if he wanted to, but he liked the comfort of a real bed.</p><p>And there was something else. Something he wasn't quite ready to admit, not to himself nor to San: he was starting to enjoy San’s company at night, more than just for fighting away his demons. It was probably because, in their isolation, it started to feel like they were the only two people that existed. After all, food tastes better when you’re starving. And Wooyoung was starving for affection. </p><p>San bounced back quickly after his cold, and it was back to their normal routine after that. It was another week of monotony before Wooyoung got the magical call from Yunho about San’s fourth seal finally being cracked. It didn’t matter though. The fourth seal was only a stepping stone—nothing mattered if they couldn’t reach the sixth and final seal before Wooyoung’s mind deteriorated from the magic inside him—and that window was closing far too quickly. </p><p>Wooyoung knew every step, no matter how small, counted, but he felt no desire to celebrate during the familiar trek to Yunho’s shop. San was beaming the whole way, obviously eager to unlock more of his power, while Wooyoung stayed silent at his side, lost in thought. San didn’t seem to notice his mood, even when he grunted out one-worded answers to San’s small talk. </p><p>They pushed through the heavy door of <em> Mystic Arcanum, </em>and the bell chimed as Wooyoung was greeted by the overwhelming scent of incense and Jongho waving with a friendly smile from behind the counter. They weaved through the candles and crystal displays effortlessly—navigating the crowded shop was practically muscle memory now with how many trips they’d made to Yunho in the past month. </p><p>Yunho sprang to life on his small seat, knees knocking against his tiny antiquated wooden desk as he jumped up to greet them, then scrambled to push a stack of papers off the extra stool. “You’re here! San, take a seat.”</p><p>San was already working to undo the buttons of his black dress shirt as he sat down, slowly slipping it off his shoulders. Wooyoung’s eyes fell up and down his frame, admiring the lean curvature of his muscles. At this point, Wooyoung had every inch of San’s chest—no, his body—practically committed to memory from how much they’d fucked.</p><p>“Excited to get this fourth seal broken?” Yunho asked brightly, his eyes flickering back and forth between San and Wooyoung. </p><p>Wooyoung nodded, flashing a strained smile. For some reason, he just couldn’t force himself to be happy about any of this—San, the seals, having to go to Yunho’s in the first place.</p><p>“I’ve been ready to get rid of this pathetic human body since before you two were even born.”</p><p>“Don’t need to remind us how old you are, grandpa,” Wooyoung said dryly, but it did little to cheer him up. Something about the atmosphere felt overwhelmingly stuffy today, and the walls seemed to warp around him. “I don’t need to be here for this, do I? I’m gonna go to the bathroom.”</p><p>“That’s fine. It should only take a few minutes. I won’t keep you too long,” Yunho said, a pen between his lips muffling his words. He didn’t even bother to pull his gaze away from San’s fourth seal as he spoke. </p><p>Wooyoung nodded, sensing that his presence was pretty much useless. “Alright. You two have fun in here, then. Just meet me out there when you’re done, San.”</p><p>San nodded. “Yeah, alright.”</p><p>Wooyoung pushed out the door back out to the main area of the shop, taking a deep breath as he closed it behind him. Even the overwhelming stench of incense permeating the shop was somehow less suffocating than the air in Yunho’s backroom. He just wanted to go home and lay down for a while. </p><p>Jongho handed him the key to the bathroom, an antique copper key with a small crystal tied to it. He pushed through the bathroom door, then collapsed on the toilet seat, still fully clothed. He didn’t actually have to use the bathroom—he just wanted somewhere to go alone for a minute. He hadn’t felt truly<em> alone </em> for weeks, stuck in that apartment with San.</p><p>His head fell to his palms, letting the sigil light up his features. He should have been happy. He should have been ecstatic that they were finally getting San’s fourth seal broken—but all he felt was an indescribable <em> emptiness </em>. The more time ticked away, the more Wooyoung found the whole thing so pointless.</p><p>Yunho himself said that it was unlikely he could get the fifth seal finished within six months, let alone the sixth. Right now, every seal that was broken was only a reminder of Wooyoung’s slowly dwindling time. Every seal broken was a weight off of San’s shoulders, and a heavy burden on his.</p><p>The more power San had, the more power Wooyoung did, by association—but that didn’t mean <em> anything </em>if he didn't know how to use it. And Hongjoong had told him that his eventual mental deterioration was directly related to the way immortal powers wore heavily on human bodies. </p><p>Wooyoung was caught in the ultimate Catch-22. An impossible solution.</p><p>They had to unlock the rest of the seals to release themselves from their sigil-bond—the very bond that would eventually consume Wooyoung whole—but they had no idea the consequences that could come with unleashing more powers on Wooyoung’s human body. Hongjoong’s warnings hadn’t left Wooyoung’s mind since that day, but only now did he feel them truly start to weigh on him. </p><p>Wooyoung wanted to disappear.</p><p>He pulled his head up after a few minutes of spiralling, realizing he probably shouldn’t sit in the bathroom for too long. San was probably done by now, anyway. He splashed a few ice-cold handfuls of water on his face, examining his face in the mirror for only a second before pushing back into the store. He needed to get it together before he saw San. There was no point in bringing any of this up to him, anyway.</p><p>“Thanks,” Wooyoung called to Jonhgo, tossing him the key across the counter. “Hey, did San come out here yet?”</p><p>“Oh, no, I haven’t heard any—Oh my God, are you okay?”</p><p>Wooyoung lurched forward over his stomach, clutching his chest as a cough erupted through his throat, like he’d just choked on something. Jongho swung around the counter towards him, eyebrows threading together with concern. Wooyoung coughed painfully a few more times, legs braced underneath him to counteract the way his body shook from the sudden force on his chest. </p><p>“Yeah, yeah, sorry, I must have just had something in my throat or—” He cleared his throat, straightening himself back up. “You know, San came down with a cold the other week, maybe I’m coming down with something too.”</p><p>Almost on cue, San pushed through Yunho’s door, still buttoning up his shirt as he strolled out. “Can we pick up a pizza on the way home? I'm fucking starving.”</p><p>Wooyoung shot San a disapproving glare. “You could at least have the decency to finish putting your clothes back on before barging into the shop, you know.”</p><p>San shrugged. “What? It’s not like anyone actually shops for this junk, anyway. Have you ever actually <em> seen </em> another customer here?”</p><p>“San,” Wooyoung gritted, shooting a side glance at Jongho.</p><p>Jongho chuckled, not seeming to take San too seriously. “It’s fine, he’s right. We’re kind of a niche market.”</p><p>“Sorry for him,” Wooyoung apologized anyway. He’d spent so much one-on-one time with San in the past month, he’d almost forgotten how completely inept he was in social settings. </p><p>Wooyoung cleared his throat again, still shaking himself off from the sudden coughing fit. It was nothing, really. He probably just choked on his own saliva—it wasn’t like he hadn’t done that in the past. But still, he couldn’t stop the feeling of dread that crept up his spine.</p><p>“Come on, San. Let’s go.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. arcana imperii</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
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</p><p> </p><p>With San's fourth seal finally cracked, Wooyoung and San both agreed it was time for them to loosen their restrictions for the time being. It was true that it was probably safer now that time had passed, and the coalition had probably moved off their scent since the kidnapping. Plus, San's newly unlocked power made him more capable of fighting back if the coalition found them somehow during an outing.</p><p>Truthfully, these were all flimsy justifications for the fact that they were both slowly going insane in their one-bedroom prison. But leaving for one night wouldn't be the end of the world—at least, that’s how San convinced Wooyoung to follow him to the bar for the evening. Even if they eased their restrictions, Wooyoung wasn’t leaving San’s line of sight for even a minute. </p><p>“Alright, I’ll come,” Wooyoung grumbled reluctantly. “But I have two conditions.”</p><p>San nodded. “Fine. Go.”</p><p>“One: we go to a bar you’ve never gone to before. If the coalition has been tracking you for a while, they may know your usual spots. We should play it as safe as possible.”</p><p>San pulled his index finger up to his lips pensively. “Well, that one might be hard, but okay. What else?”</p><p>“You let me pick out your outfit.”</p><p>San’s eyes widened. “<em>Huh?  </em>What the hell does my outfit have to do with anything?”</p><p>Wooyoung shrugged. “It doesn’t. But if you’re gonna drag me along so you can have fun drinking, I should be able to have my fun too.”</p><p>Wooyoung held up one finger, telling San to wait while absconded to the bedroom, rummaging through San’s closet. </p><p>He smiled mischievously as he emerged, fisting three articles of clothing in his hands. </p><p>“No,” San said firmly, shaking his head. “No way.” </p><p>Wooyoung only smiled in response as he held up each individually, saving the best for last. “Jeans, a leather jacket, and—” His grin grew wider, overwhelming his features. “This.”</p><p>“Where the hell did you find that?”</p><p>“You didn’t tell me you owned a deep v-neck, Mr. I-only-wear-dress-shirts.”</p><p>“I didn’t even <em> know </em>I had that.”</p><p>Wooyoung chucked the shirt to San, who caught it with fumbling hands. “Wanna go to the bar or not?”</p><p>“There’s a reason I only wear button ups, you know,” San grumbled. “I’m not trying to show off my seals to the whole fucking world.”</p><p>“Why not? It’s not like anyone around here knows what they are, anyway. They just look like tattoos. If you’re gonna drag me to the bar, the least I deserve is a little eye candy.” </p><p>“And <em> I </em>don’t get anything?”</p><p>Wooyoung carded a hand through his hair playfully, letting a soft smirk play up on his lips. “Oh, don’t worry. I have something planned.”</p><p>San arched his brow at Wooyoung’s implication, but didn’t press further. “Okay, but I have a condition for you.”</p><p>“I don’t think you’re in the position to make demands here, but I’ll hear you out.”</p><p>“No getting angry and flinging yourself to the '70s again.”</p><p>Wooyoung rolled his eyes. “Very clever. Trust me, I’m not trying to get separated from you again.” </p><p>San glanced at the time on the microwave in the distance, then back to Wooyoung. “We’ll go in an hour or so, then?”</p><p>Wooyoung nodded in agreement, tossing San the rest of his outfit to change into. </p><p>
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</p><p>“San,” Wooyoung called, letting his voice ring out with a flirtatious timbre as he walked out of the bedroom. He tugged at the collar of his black chiffon blouse, not quite sheer enough to be fully translucent, but enough to reveal the curves of his torso beneath the thin material. “What do you think about this shirt?”</p><p>If they weren’t getting ready for a night out, this was usually where San’s eyes would flare with lust, beckoning Wooyoung to his lap with a flick of his wrist and a devilish grin. Wooyoung had all but given up with the subtleties at this point. San knew immediately when Wooyoung came dressed to kill, swishing his hips and slowly running his fingers through his hair, that he came for one thing only. </p><p>A playful smirk danced up on the edges of San’s lips. “I think you look like a stripper.”</p><p>“A sexy stripper though, right?” Wooyoung jested with a sly smile, leaning against the doorframe, letting the shirt slip further off his shoulders. “Want me to put on a show for you?”</p><p>“God, do I,” San breathed. </p><p>Wooyoung simply smiled in response, basking in the attention. He pulled away, gesturing to the front door. “We should go though, shouldn’t we?”</p><p>San narrowed his eyes, pushing himself off the couch. “You fucking tease.”</p><p>Wooyoung sent a cheeky wink in his direction, then headed towards the door to slip his shoes on. </p><p>“Are you gonna put on a jacket or anything?” San questioned as he pulled his own leather jacket on, obscuring his seal tattoos aside from the two peeking out the top of the low shirt.</p><p>Wooyoung glanced down at his risque shirt, then back up at San, eyebrows pinching together. “What? I thought you liked it.”</p><p>“I do,” San breathed, unable to keep his eyes from dropping up and down Wooyoung’s frame. The attention he craved. “It’s just—you’ll draw a lot of eyes wearing something like that.”</p><p>“Ooh, what? Don’t want other guys looking at me? You jealous or something?” Wooyoung teased playfully, unable to help the smile that crept up on his lips. </p><p>“No. No,” San shook his head. Wooyoung wasn’t convinced. “I just think it’s best we not draw too many eyes to ourselves. You said it yourself. No unnecessary risks.”</p><p>“I hardly think me looking hot is an unnecessary risk,” Wooyoung said smugly, retrieving a jacket from the hall closet. He flashed a wink at San. “But don’t worry, I’ll put one on just for you.”</p><p>San led the way to the bar with Wooyoung in tow, not evening bothering to use a GPS. When they arrived, Wooyoung glared at San skeptically. </p><p>“I thought you haven’t been here before.”</p><p>“I haven’t. But I’ve seen it around the neighborhood before. Never checked it out, I guess. I prefer my regulars.”</p><p>Wooyoung scoffed, admiring the surprisingly nice-looking exterior of the place. “Oh, like <em> The Black Cat </em>is nicer than this?” </p><p>“Never said it was nice. Just said I prefer it.”</p><p>They pushed through the door, and the place certainly didn’t disappoint. It was stirring with people—surprisingly busy for a weekday night—and the bar was entirely overcrowded. San chose a table near the corner instead, and Wooyoung offered to order their drinks for them. </p><p>Wooyoung swished his hips deliberately as he walked away from their table towards the bar, hoping to give San a nice view of his ass. Maybe if he was enough of a tease he’d get a good enough fucking tonight to make up for being dragged out to the bar. He at least deserved something out of this. </p><p>He returned with their drinks—a rum and coke for him, and a whiskey sour for San, who’d been whining about missing hard liquor after all the cheap wine they’d been drinking at home. He slipped into the seat directly next to San at the table, using the excuse that it was just too hard to hear over the bustling crowd. That was a lie. The truth was, he felt suddenly vulnerable like this, and San felt safe. Like nothing could happen to Wooyoung if he stuck close by him. </p><p>He felt less nervous with every drink he knocked back, but he still couldn't help but be on edge as they enjoyed their drinks. That deep, churning pit in his stomach only compounded the longer they were there, like sitting ducks at their table. Wooyoung's eyes flitted across the bar every so often, paranoid at every new face that walked through the door. He thought the all time he spent fighting away his nightmares was enough to beat his constant fear of the coalition again, but it wasn't. Apparently, it wasn't even close to enough time. </p><p>Wooyoung needed a distraction, better than just sitting silently with San, eyes scanning nervously around the bar. And there was something that had been gnawing at him for a long while. </p><p>“San.”</p><p>San looked up from his drink, clinking the ice cubes around mindlessly. </p><p>“Can I ask you a question?”</p><p>San sighed. Wooyoung had hoped he was lubricated enough from having several drinks already, but he seemed to be sober enough to already veto Wooyoung’s curiosity. </p><p>“What is it, human? You know, you get incessant when you drink.”</p><p>“You’re the one who wanted to come here,” Wooyoung grumbled under his breath, then straightened up in his seat. “But uh... it’s about… uh—it’s about your past.”</p><p>San’s eyes narrowed. “You know I’m not a big fan of that subject.” He paused, swirling the half-melted ice cubes in his glass. “But fine, go.”</p><p>“I guess I just… don’t have a clear picture of how you lived, really. You and Hongjoong have been way too vague when explaining things.”</p><p>“There’s a reason for that,” San sighed. “It’s not exactly the easiest concept for a<em> human </em> to grasp. Many things about my society, well—they’re untranslatable.”</p><p>“Try me.”</p><p>“Alright, what do you want to know?”</p><p>“Well… do you have jobs? I mean, how do you pay for things like food… shelter? Do you have some sort of currency?”</p><p>“Jesus, slow down. One at a time.” San glanced down at his empty glass. “I’m gonna need another drink.”</p><p>“After you tell me.”</p><p>“Fine, okay. Well, first of all, in my immortal form, I don’t<em> need </em>to eat. That’s a human curse. As for shelter, when we’re created, we’re all given residences. Much like Hongjoong’s place, actually.”</p><p>Wooyoung’s eyes widened “So you all live in mansions, then?”</p><p>“I guess it’s closer to a castle, in human terms. We don’t all get one though. They’re shared spaces. Anyway, currency—yes and no. Not in the way humans do, at least. There is no fight for resources where I’m from, and thus no need for arbitrary concepts like money. But we’re all assigned jobs from creation, based on our abilities.”</p><p>Wooyoung was starting to regret asking. He may have been more confused now than he was before. “So it’s like… communism?”</p><p>San sputtered, breaking into a roaring laugh. “That’s cute. No, no. You can’t compare my society to your pathetic human political systems.”</p><p>“I dunno, sounds a lot like communism to me,” Wooyoung muttered under his breath. “Anyway, you said you were created? So what, no one gives birth, then?”</p><p>“An immortal society is plagued by the burden of overpopulation. We were created so we can’t breed—that’s a solely human disease.”</p><p>“I wouldn’t exactly call <em> giving birth </em> a disease, but…” Wooyoung took the last sip of his drink in his glass. “So what, you just pop up one day in your body? And if no one can die, is everyone just the same age?”</p><p>“We’re created to exist forever at our physical peak. Makes more sense, biologically, don’t you think? The human system of aging is a mess, really. There’s a reason you were a failed prototype. I can say one good thing about human bodies though—<em> sex </em>. God, you have it good here. It’s all humans are good for, really.”</p><p>Wooyoung blinked incredulously. “Wh—wait, wait—immortals don’t have <em> sex </em>?”</p><p>San shrugged, as if Wooyoung was somehow supposed to take that at face value. “I told you, we have no need for reproduction, so we don’t feel sexual desires. You have no idea how confused I was when I got here and my dick started aching. Human society is an insipid cesspool, but at least you know how to have fun.”</p><p>It made sense why San was such a raging nymphomaniac: he’d been alive for over 1,000 years, and had never had sex before his banishment. </p><p>“I’m assuming you didn’t have alcohol then, either?”</p><p>“Oh, we did. But it did virtually nothing to our bodies. And how dull is that? Really, it was nearly as miserable there as it is in this hellhole. But at least there I’m not getting chased by the coalition or suffering in this fallible human form.”</p><p>Everything seemed to fall into place now—the reasoning behind San’s vices, drinking himself into a stupor and fucking everything with a pulse. His life had been miserable from the get go. Even Hongjoong himself said he didn’t regret being banished, that he was happier on earth than he ever was in his home. San’s immortal society was supposed to be a utopia, so why did it seem so dystopian? </p><p>“Well, I’d say you’ve fucked enough to make up for your whole—”</p><p>Wooyoung’s heart stopped in his chest as two darkly-clad men pushed through the bar door where his eyes had been almost exclusively locked all night. He jumped back in his seat, causing the wooden chair to grind against the floor with a harsh creak. </p><p>He felt San tense at his side reactively, then set his hand on Wooyoung’s thigh firmly, rubbing in back-and-forth motions. “Hey, hey. It’s not them. Don’t worry,” he soothed in Wooyoung’s ear. </p><p>Had San noticed how tense he was all night?</p><p>“S—sorry,” Wooyoung stammered, centralizing all his energy into his chest to keep his heart rate from shooting through the roof. “Sorry, I just thought—”</p><p>“I know, you’ve been looking around the place all night like a scared cat.”</p><p>
  <em> Shit. </em>
</p><p>“I—”</p><p>“It’s fine, Wooyoung,” San reassured. Wooyoung closed his eyes, letting his mind focus around the way San soothed his shaking legs with his hand stroking against his thigh. “I told you, I wouldn’t let them take you again.”</p><p>San moved his hand, opening his jacket just enough for Wooyoung to catch a glimpse of an object holstered in his pants, glimmering beneath the bar lights. <em> A gun? </em></p><p>“You brought a—San, oh my god—”</p><p>“I knew going out was risky. But I have it under control. I promise, Wooyoung, I wasn’t bluffing when I said I wouldn’t let the coalition get you again. You’re safe with me, alright?”</p><p>There was something in the way San spoke now that was so genuine—a kind of vulnerability that only rarely peeked through to the surface. And truthfully, Wooyoung did feel safe in San’s company. He felt safe sleeping in his arms, safe walking down the street with him, and safe even now, with his heart racing and his limbs trembling under San’s relaxing touch. </p><p>Wooyoung nodded. They sat quietly for a bit, just long enough for Wooyoung to calm down from his scare. </p><p>“We should probably go home now,” San suggested softly. “Don’t you think?”</p><p>Wooyoung nodded, abandoning the rest of his questions for now—he just wanted to get home so he could curl up in San’s arms. San kept a protective hand around Wooyoung’s waist as they walked towards the bar to close their tab, tugging him in until he was flush against his side.   </p><p>"You can close our tab," Wooyoung said to the bartender, who nodded to him and went to retrieve Hongjoong's credit card from behind the bar. He pinched it between two fingers, holding it out to Wooyoung, but his eyes were locked with San's chest, lingering just a bit too long over his seals. </p><p>"Hey, uh, your tattoos," he said hesitantly. "Where'd you get those?"</p><p>San glanced down to the low v-neck Wooyoung forced on him, then back up to the bartender, who was tall, donning fire-red hair and warm, friendly eyes. </p><p>"Why?" San questioned back, eyes narrowing. </p><p>"Oh they just… they just seem familiar." </p><p>Wooyoung extended his hand to retrieve his card from the bartender, who pulled his hand back slightly. </p><p>The tall man bit his lip. “Wait. Sorry. Look, this is gonna sound crazy, but… are those… are those seals?” </p><p>Wooyoung tensed visibly, and San tightened his grip around Wooyoung’s waist, lowering his voice to a cautionary growl. “Who are you?”</p><p>The bartender raised his hands non-threateningly. “Wait, wait. I’m one of you. I’m one of you.” He gestured towards San’s chest. “I have those same seals.”</p><p>“If you’re one of me, you should know better than to announce it in front of a human,” San reprimanded, flickering his eyes towards Wooyoung, who wrapped his hand around San’s bicep beneath his jacket, squeezing tight. “But it’s fine. He knows.”</p><p>Wooyoung gritted his teeth anxiously, hoping San was thinking the same as he was. They didn’t need this right now. They had their own problems to worry about, and they were trying to lay as low as possible. Having more immortals around was <em> not </em>a good strategy for warding off the coalition. </p><p>The bartender continued. “Look, I just—I’ve been here alone for only a few years now. I have no idea what I’m doing, I managed to get this job but—I really need someone like me that I can talk to. I’m going crazy here.” </p><p>San’s eyebrows pinched together in thought, but the bartender didn’t even give him a minute to respond. </p><p>“I have to get back to work—it’s really busy tonight and my boss will kill me if I ignore the other customers. But look, please, just meet me back here—I’m off on Wednesday, and here—” The man fumbled blindly behind the bar, procuring a pen from a drawer and scribbling hurriedly on a napkin. “You can call me at this number. Seriously, I’m so happy just to meet someone like me.”</p><p>He folded the napkin together, placing it between his fingers with the credit card and slipping it to them. </p><p>“We’ll think about it,” Wooyoung cut in quickly. </p><p>The red haired man nodded. “Thank you. That's all I ask. Oh, and my name's Mingi, by the way." He gestured to the name on his name tag, which was scribbled faintly in messy letters. "Look, I really need to get back to work now but—I’ll see you back here on Wednesday.”</p><p>Wooyoung followed the man with his eyes as he turned away to start frantically pouring drinks for the patrons crowding the bar. He seemed nice enough, but Wooyoung and San had enough of their own problems right now. They didn’t need someone else’s. Plus, they didn’t exactly want to be making unnecessary trips out just to meet up with another immortal. </p><p>Wooyoung clutched onto San’s arm tightly, scanning the crowded bar nervously as they left. The interaction only made him more on edge about running into the coalition guys. </p><p>“Easy, claws,” San gritted, gesturing to Wooyoung’s fingernails digging in through his jacket with a vice-tight grip. “I told you, I’m not gonna let anything happen, alright?”</p><p>“What about the bartender?” Wooyoung asked. </p><p>“What about him?”</p><p>“You think we should meet with him? Look San, I’m all for helping people but don’t you think we have too many of our own problems to worry about? I mean, we don’t <em> need </em> to meet him again. He doesn’t even know our names. He didn’t even know we lived here before tonight. Can’t we just ghost him? He can’t sense us, right?”</p><p>“I suppose we could. Assuming he hasn’t broken his first seal yet, he wouldn’t be able to sense our energy.” San pushed through the exit out to the sidewalk, guiding Wooyoung outside with a hand between his shoulder blades. “But, I dunno. I think we should try to help him. Or at least hear him out.”</p><p>Wooyoung narrowed his eyes, shooting San a suspicious glance. “That seems awfully generous for a guy who only thinks of himself.”</p><p>San shrugged. “The more people fucking over the coaliton, the better. Plus, the more of us there are to track down, the less we become a priority, right? I mean, we've seen how shit they are at trying to find me. Not to mention Hongjoong, they practically just gave up on him when they discovered his wards. A diversion could work in our favor.”</p><p>“I guess,” Wooyoung grumbled reluctantly. “I’m exhausted though. Let’s just go home.” </p><p>Wooyoung slipped his hand down San’s arm, curling his fingers around San's hand as they walked. San shot him a confused glance, pinching his eyebrows together. </p><p>“For safety,” Wooyoung muttered. “Just in case we have to take off running, or whatever.”</p><p>Wooyoung noticed a soft smile pull up on San's mouth from his peripheral, squeezing just barely at Wooyoung’s hand as they walked. Wooyoung gripped tighter, staying as close as possible to San the whole way home.</p><p>For safety, of course. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. fide nemini</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>
    
  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They had only one full day to mull over the bartender’s offer, but San seemed to have already made his mind up about helping him. Wooyoung was less convinced, but he wasn’t exactly up to an argument. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d been feeling off since that night, which he could only attribute to the near panic-attack he had at the bar when he thought the coalition had tracked them there. The experience, which left him trembling as he walked home with San that night, roused memories in him he thought were long gone. He’d stuffed them into a deep crevice of his mind, locked them away and thrown out the key. So he thought, at least.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He felt dazed as he walked through the apartment the next day, aimlessly walking circles through the kitchen and the bedroom until San asked him what the hell he was doing. He spent most of the day in bed, teetering somewhere between sleep and exhaustion. He was even asleep when San shook him awake for their lunchtime rendezvous with Mingi at the same bar, which Wooyoung apparently set up with him over text. He couldn’t even remember. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When they arrived, Mingi was standing outside, greeting them with a friendly wave, his hair even more electrifyingly bright red than it seemed in the bar. As the sign on the door indicated, the place didn’t become a bar until after dark, functioning as a family-friendly pub during the daytime. It was nowhere close to as busy as it was two nights before, with customers spaced out in tables across the restaurant. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mingi nodded at the hostess when they entered, who shot him a knowing look that they could seat themselves—perks of working at the place, Wooyoung supposed. Mingi led them to a remote corner table, just across from where they’d been sitting the first time they came. Wooyoung slid into the chair next to San, making sure to secure the side with a view of the entrance, just in case, and Mingi chose the seat across from San. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Look, we can talk here for today, but we have to make it quick. We can’t be staying out like this for more than an hour,” Wooyoung warned as they shifted in their seats, and San nodded in agreement at his side. San’s hand moved to rest gently on Wooyoung’s thigh, mirroring the time they had been here last—except this time, it was entirely unprovoked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why not?” Mingi questioned.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re… well, we’re being tracked by the coalition,” San responded hesitantly. “Being out in public is a lot more vulnerable than at my apartment. They’re able to sense our energy no matter where we are, but it’s a lot safer in a high rise. You live in an apartment?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mingi nodded. “Yeah. I managed to find a place that didn’t do background checks.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What floor?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Second.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you’re looking to crack your seals—and I’m assuming you are—you’re gonna want to move to a higher floor. The higher the better.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mingi’s eyebrows pinched together. “I’m not sure I understand.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The second you break that first seal, you unlock your energy—broadcast it, essentially. Once the coalition gets a whiff—and they will—they’ll start tracking you. And they will find you if you’re not careful.” San pointed upwards with a sly smile. “My apartment might not be warded, but at least it’s elevated. That’s what makes it safe. They can track my x and y axis, but not my z.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Since when did you become a mathematician?” Wooyoung jeered at his side. San squeezed his thigh, digging his nails in through Wooyoung’s pants, and Wooyoung bit back an amused smile. “Sorry, continue.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you’re serious about wanting our help, you have to accept that the coalition will be tracking you, and act accordingly. Your powers come at a price here. Every building you enter—you’ll need to make sure you have an exit plan.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mingi nodded, pulling his gaze down in thought.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So,” San continued seriously. “You still want our help, then?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a moment of silence before Mingi raised his head, settling his gaze on San’s eyes with a resolute nod. “Yes. I’m sure. But… the seals—</span>
  <em>
    <span>how</span>
  </em>
  <span> do you crack them?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>San held both palms up, flashing the sigil Mingi couldn't see in his powerless human form, then  shot a marked glance at Wooyoung.  “Slow down. We’ll get to that. First, we have a few questions for you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wooyoung cleared his throat. The first thing he discussed with San before meeting with Mingi was how they were going to approach their convergence. Wooyoung was still unconvinced about the merits of helping another immortal, despite San’s insistence that working with him was in their favor. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wooyoung had two conditions for their alliance with the mysterious bartender. One: they don’t, under </span>
  <em>
    <span>any</span>
  </em>
  <span> circumstances, tell him about Yunho. Yunho needed to focus on San and San alone if they had any chance to save Wooyoung’s brain from deteriorating. Two: they approach with caution. They’d only met in passing for not even five minutes. They had no idea who this guy was, or if he could be trusted. Wooyoung wanted to properly vet him before revealing too much. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, yeah. Sure. Anything." Mingi agreed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“First off, when did you get here?” Wooyoung started without hesitation, leaning forward with his elbows propped on the table. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Coming up on five earth years now, I think. Still getting used to the way time is substantiated here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tell me about it,” San grumbled. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So how did you get your job at the bar, then? I mean, it’s not like they give you documents when you get here, right? I mean, that’s why San spent his whole life on the run doing odd jobs instead of—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I never told you that,” San cut in suspiciously. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Shit.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wooyoung’s breath caught in his throat, and he swallowed carefully so as not to draw attention to it. He learned that from 1976 San, not present San. He needed to pay more attention.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, you did. You were really drunk,” Wooyoung lied. Though, he supposed, it was technically the truth. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>San shrugged, unable to deny Wooyoung’s claim. Thank god he was such an alcoholic.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mingi looked between them to make sure they were done bickering, then. “I got lucky, I guess. I was lucky enough to find a guy who would let me work under the table. It wasn’t easy. I spent most of my first year homeless. That’s why I can’t afford to slack off at this job, you know?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You may need to re-evaluate ways of making money once you unlock your powers. You work in one place too long, they're gonna track you. When I cracked my first, I started using what little powers it unlocked to steal what I needed. Pickpocketing for rent, freezing time to skip out on restaurants. Even Hongjoong—"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Hongjoong?" Mingi cut in incredulously. "You know The Pirate? Holy shit." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>San gritted his teeth, tensing his grip on Wooyoung’s thigh, who shifted nervously at his side. Hongjoong probably didn't want them broadcasting his name to any random immortal he ran into.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before San had a chance to backtrack, the waitress stopped at their table to take their orders, and the three of them went uncomfortably silent the minute she walked away. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, you never told me your name,” Mingi said abruptly, slicing through the tense stillness. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, right. I’m San.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mingi visibly froze, pupils dilating as wide as saucers. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>San? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Oh my—holy shit. </span>
  <em>
    <span>That </span>
  </em>
  <span>San?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wooyoung glanced over at San, whose eyes went wide, complexion paling. “Fuck. What do you know about me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re—you’re famous. You’re a fucking legend, but not the good kind… Holy shit. You murdered that—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Murdered?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>San cut him off with a harsh hiss, flicking his eyes around the restaurant. “Hey, keep your fucking voice down. And I didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>murder </span>
  </em>
  <span>anyone.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But they said that—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know what they </span>
  <em>
    <span>said</span>
  </em>
  <span>. They banished me for it, after all. But I didn’t do anything.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“San, what the hell?” Wooyoung hissed, trying to keep his voice down. “Why didn’t you tell me you were banished for fucking</span>
  <em>
    <span> murder</span>
  </em>
  <span>? How the hell do you even murder an immortal, anyway?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"How should I know?" San barked back. "It wasn't me."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Then who?" Mingi asked quietly, watching carefully for his response, but San went silent at Wooyoung’s side. "I mean, it's not like it matters to any of us anymore. We're all stuck here now."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>San sighed. "My brother." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Holy shit. San had a </span>
  <em>
    <span>brother</span>
  </em>
  <span>? Wooyoung fought back the urge to probe further into that, letting San continue. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can't tell you exactly how he did it, but he was a genius, even among gods. All I know was that it was an old alchemy trick.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How do you even murder an immortal?” Wooyoung uttered quietly, unable to contain his curiosity. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We didn’t even think it was possible until it happened,” San explained. “It wasn’t exactly death in the same way it would be for a human, but it’s as close as you can get. I have no clue where he learned how to do it, but I think he was involved in a coup of sorts. I knew he was up to something, but I never asked outright where he got his spell from. Whatever or whoever he was involved with, it was shady as hell. I wanted nothing to do with it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He murdered an</span>
  <em>
    <span> elite,</span>
  </em>
  <span> San. That’s the highest crime imaginable. Hell, there wasn’t even an official law against it. That’s how unprecedented it was. Your trial was history. They wrote a new law into action after your prosecution. People are</span>
  <em>
    <span> still</span>
  </em>
  <span> talking about it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait, you’re saying murder wasn’t illegal before this?” Wooyoung questioned, unable to contain the stunned expression on his face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, I mean, why would it be? It had never been done before. It hadn’t even been conceptualized as a possibility.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mingi turned his attention back to San. “Why would you let yourself take the fall for him, though? Killing an elite… that’s not a petty crime. You had to have known they were going to banish you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He was my brother. My closest one, too. I just—I covered for him. I thought all I would have to do was lie—I didn’t plan on taking the fall for the whole fucking thing. I didn’t realize he had plans to frame me all along.” San tensed visibly, expression growing strained. “Fuck, I don’t like talking about this. Even thinking about him—his stupid </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking</span>
  </em>
  <span> face, his stupid </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking</span>
  </em>
  <span> name, I can’t even think about him without wanting to smash his face in. He’s dead to me now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mingi pressed his finger to his lips pensively, as if trying to take it all in. “I don’t get it… why would he want to kill an elite? And how did he manage to frame you, anyway?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He was next qualified to take over the elite’s command. He just needed to find a way to get rid of him. And there was no way he was stepping down from his chair.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So he was a government official of sorts?” Wooyoung probed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Jesus, you’re incessant as always.” San snapped. Wooyoung didn’t take much offense to it—he could tell at this point when San was snapping because of stress, and not genuine distaste—and talking about his past seemed to be a tipping point for him. “But yeah, I suppose. Something like a senator, you could say. A lawmaker. They’re also responsible for enforcement of rules, and such.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Judge, jury and executioner, </span>
  </em>
  <span>as Hongjoong had said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was willing to cover for my brother because, well, this elite wasn’t exactly an angel. He’d been involved in a lot of injustice against my family, historically.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Family?” Wooyoung interrupted, bracing preemptively for San to snap at his question, but San simply pressed his hand harder against Wooyoung’s thigh. “I thought you weren’t born… so how could you...”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s complicated—a rough translation, really. We’re not related by blood. We’re grouped together by ability—time, in my case. It’s more like</span>
  <em>
    <span> kinship</span>
  </em>
  <span> than family.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wooyoung nodded, still not understanding a single thing, but Mingi seemed enthralled, like he was listening to a fairytale. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Anyway, he was involved in a lot of nefarious dealings. I mean, it’s not like it’s uncommon knowledge that the elites are all corrupt. But you could argue what my brother did was </span>
  <em>
    <span>so much</span>
  </em>
  <span> worse than what the elites did. At least they don’t carry out </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking murder plots</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” San gritted his teeth together, fist clenched so tightly around the empty water glass in front of him that his skin was flushed an angry red. “I shouldn’t have agreed to cover for him—but I guess it didn’t matter in the end. He framed me anyway, and they believed him. I mean, why wouldn’t he? He was well-respected and coveted amongst our family. God, fuck, what time is it? Are they serving drinks right now? I need a fucking whiskey.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey—hey,” Wooyoung soothed at his side, sensing the discomfort bubbling up in San. The sigil didn’t connect their emotions, but Wooyoung felt almost like he could sense exactly how San was feeling now without more than a glance. “It’s fine. We can stop talking about it. We didn’t come to talk about your past, anyway.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I just need to ask one thing first,” San said, pulling his gaze back to Mingi seriously. “Who—who took his place? The elite… who took his chair?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No one, as far as I know. It would have been huge news if they replaced him. At least, as of my own banishment, they just left the spot empty.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck,” San gritted, venom dripping off his tongue. “I don’t know what would be worse—if my brother ended up taking the position after what he did,  or the fact that he didn’t…” He paused, and Wooyoung could feel his hand trembling against Wooyoung’s skin. “He did it for nothing. I was banished for fucking nothing. I've been here suffering for fucking nothing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>San’s nails dug into Wooyoung’s thigh, pushing in so sharply that Wooyoung was sure he was cutting little red marks into his skin through his jeans. Wooyoung positioned his hand over San’s, threading his fingers between his, letting his warm touch soothe his tension. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Almost on cue, the waitress emerged from out of nowhere, slipping them their plates of food.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not hungry anymore,” San muttered. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We should probably get going soon, anyway. Finish what you can, San.” Wooyoung turned to Mingi. “Do you have any other questions for us before we go, then?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I mean… </span>
  <em>
    <span>how</span>
  </em>
  <span> do you break the seals? What do I have to do?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll walk you through it,” San responded. “It’s not something I can do </span>
  <em>
    <span>for</span>
  </em>
  <span> you, but I can help you figure out how to do it on your own. It’s difficult to explain, and you should know that it might take a while to crack the first one. Thankfully, I already did mine. So I know a thing or two.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mingi nodded. “That’s fine. I’ve managed five years as a human already. I can be patient.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Try 112,” San grumbled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“112? Holy shit. I’m glad I found you when I did, then.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wooyoung picked at his food as he listened to the two of them talk, tuning them out when their conversation veered into incomprensible immortal-jargon. He'd never heard San so talkative before, not even with Hongjoong. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d also never experienced San being so </span>
  <em>
    <span>mild</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He almost seemed human for once, ironically, when talking to another immortal—no snarky quips or biting remarks. Even his lofty arrogance became more benign. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>San had barely touched his food, and truthfully, Wooyoung wasn’t hungry either. There was a churning in his stomach he couldn’t quite place, and it grew as he sat silently, taking disinterested sips of water. He nudged San under the table with his foot, and he turned towards Wooyoung, a confused look furrowing between his brows. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He lowered his voice to a whisper, leaning in closer to San. It didn’t really matter if their guest heard, but it felt like something that shouldn’t be drawn attention to. “I’m getting a weird feeling.  I don’t know if it’s the coalition, or I’m just feeling a bit sick today. I just—I think we should head back now.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>San hummed knowingly, then turned his attention to Mingi, letting the fork he was absently twirling between his fingers clang down on the uneaten plate of food in front of him. "Sorry to cut our meeting short, but we need to get going. We can pay for the food on the way out. Just text us when you have your next day off, and we can meet more privately."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mingi smiled, bright and warm like sunshine—he reminded Wooyoung a lot of Yunho, really—and his eyes crinkled into soft crescents. "No, no, it's fine, I got it. Consider it on the house. As a token of my appreciation for helping me. Seriously, thank you." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As they said their goodbyes, Wooyoung felt his hand curl around San's again without thinking. Although it would have made sense for him to be worried about the coalition again, truthfully, danger wasn’t on his mind at all. But still, his hand found a home in San's, instinctively.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Just in case?" San muttered at his side as they pushed out the door to the sidewalk. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wooyoung hummed in agreement, but he couldn't quite convince himself that was true. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In fact, he knew it wasn't true at all.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. amor et melle et felle est fecundissimus</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p>Wooyoung didn’t know San was capable of friendship, but here he was, and Wooyoung thought he and Mingi just <em> worked. </em>San was like an entirely new person around him, and somehow, he seemed human. </p><p>Wooyoung usually let Mingi and San be alone when he came over—it wasn’t like he didn’t like Mingi, but they didn’t necessarily have any common ground. Mingi was even less of a human than San was, in terms of sheer time spent on Earth, and he could hardly relate to him at all. </p><p>Plus, Wooyoung had Yeosang, but San had no one except Wooyoung—until now at least. He could spend one day a week in the bedroom if it meant San could unload all his immortal woes on some other poor soul. It was the least he could do, really.</p><p>Still, Wooyoung couldn’t help but crack a fond smile when he roused from his bed cave to walk across the apartment to the bathroom, eavesdropping on San and Mingi chuckling away about something on the couch. It was almost cute how giggly San got with him.  </p><p>But tonight was different. Tonight, Wooyoung offered to make dinner for the two of them as they worked—<em> working </em>was the code they used for ‘chatting for several hours while San pretended to study Mingi’s symbol’. They were really just fucking around. Not that Wooyoung was complaining—he still hadn’t bought into the idea that cracking Mingi’s seal was the answer to all their problems. He was skeptical at best. San and Mingi simply being friends was better for everyone at this point. </p><p>But tonight, he wasn’t worried about that. He had a purpose, that didn’t have anything to do with the extravagant dinner he was preparing. </p><p>He didn’t know what it was,  but there was something about San that made Wooyoung want to act up more than normal—Wooyoung was always playful, always flirty, but San ignited a flame inside him, one that wanted to push boundaries. He wanted to test San’s restraint. He wanted to see how hard he could clench his fingers around San’s self-control, watching the cracks form at the seams. He wondered what it would take for him to break.</p><p>San always fucked him well—that was no question. But ever since he’d edged Wooyoung into passing out, he hadn’t gone any further. Frankly, Wooyoung was getting bored, and that fact that he knew what San was capable of made it even worse. The insatiable submissive brat within him begged for more, but he needed to push San over the edge first. He knew he could do it.</p><p>That, and the slightly-too-sheer button up from their night out had been beckoning to him for weeks since he’d worn it on their night out. He recalled the way San’s eyes followed his frame, questioning whether he’d be wearing that sultry number to the bar without a jacket. San reeked of jealousy, but it had been nearly a month since then, and even longer since San unknowingly declared his schoolyard crush to Wooyoung. </p><p>It wasn’t like Wooyoung could just ask San outright—but whether or not he got jealous over Wooyoung being a little<em> too </em>flirty with his friend could be a good indicator. San was oblivious to how glaring his reactions were, after all. It wouldn’t take much, but Wooyoung knew how easily he could get caught up in the moment when flirting. </p><p>He slipped the shirt on, keeping the top two buttons undone to tease out his collarbone, then slinked out of the room, swishing his hips slightly as he entered the kitchen.</p><p>“I’m gonna start on dinner,” he called, letting his eyes fall over their frames on the couch. “Want some wine?” </p><p>“Yeah, that sounds great,” Mingi responded, pushing off the couch to join Wooyoung in the kitchen.</p><p>If San didn’t already know what was going on by the way Wooyoung strutted out of the bedroom, wearing<em> that </em>shirt—that sheer, enticing mess of barely-sheer chiffon, complete with little lace cuffs around the wrists. It must have been so painfully obvious, the way Wooyoung procured the wine glasses, pouring slowly while maintaining careful eye contact between the two of them. </p><p>This was only the beginning. </p><p>He used all the same tricks he’d used before—after all, he knew what worked for him. Letting the shirt fall lightly off his shoulders, displaying the sharp cut of his collarbone, the gentle curve of his shoulder, the soft skin just above his chest, begging to be marked with little red constellations. </p><p>He made a point to be just a little closer to Mingi than he’d ever been before, leaning in just a bit more over the counter, brushing lightly against him when they crossed paths in the kitchen, making sure to exaggerate every motion, regardless if San was watching or not. But he didn’t need to watch San to know if he was looking. He was looking. It was Wooyoung, after all, and San had a history of not being able to keep his eyes off him. </p><p>Wooyoung swished his hips just a bit too much when cooking, paying special attention to Mingi all night, in more ways than just physical. It was entirely meaningless to Wooyoung—and even more meaningless to Mingi, who Wooyoung had pinned as painfully straight. He could tell when a guy’s eyes were watching him, but Mingi seemed entirely uninterested with his overt flirting. </p><p>This was all for show, anyway. All for San.</p><p>“How tall are you, anyway?” Wooyoung asked as he scooped a heaping spoonful of curry on a neat stack of rice, sliding it across the counter to Mingi first, ignoring San to his right, eyes narrowed, glistening dangerously. </p><p>“I’m not really sure. Six feet, maybe? Still getting used to human terms for these things.”</p><p>“Ah, I’ve always had a thing for tall men,” Wooyoung hummed, doing his best to restrain the sly smile that threatened to twitch up on his lips. “More wine?” </p><p>“No, no, I’m fine, thank you.”</p><p>Wooyoung turned his attention to San briefly, but kept his eyes elsewhere, wandering as if to indicate he had better things to do. “San, you can come around and grab a plate, if you want.”</p><p>
  <em> The nail in the coffin. </em>
</p><p>“Plate it for me,” San ordered, and Wooyoung could see his fists clench at his sides. </p><p>“Sorry, I just need to get these dishes under some hot water,” Wooyoung said with a casual shrug. </p><p>San’s voice grew darker, almost at a low growl as he pushed his next words through. They sounded restrained, as if he was holding back something. “I said plate it for me, Wooyoung.”</p><p>
  <em> Right in the palm of his hand. </em>
</p><p>Wooyoung turned on his heels, only allowing the smug grin to play up on his lips once he was out of San’s line of sight. His throat tickled slightly, and he broke into a small cough as he gathered together a plate of curry for San. He wasn’t sure what it was, but couldn’t stop clearing his throat through the night, a flurry of coughs escaping every so often—maybe it was from the lump in his throat from the tension in the room, the way he could feel San practically seething beneath the surface, fire-hot eyes trained on his frame all night. </p><p>San and Mingi occupied the two barstools while they ate, and Wooyoung opted to stand, considering there was only room at the counter for two.</p><p>Wooyoung took slow, deliberate bites, lingering his eyes just a bit too long on Mingi whenever he spoke, letting San take in every second. He ate up the delicious attention, a surge of power rushing through him every time he felt San tense when Wooyoung spoke to Mingi. He’d effortlessly tumbled into Wooyoung’s trap, eyes were magnetized to Wooyoung all night—almost uncomfortably so—the fire burning beneath them so hot that Wooyoung felt like he might erupt any moment. </p><p>Mingi asked a few immortal questions over dinner, but Wooyoung did his best to steer the conversation back to lighter topics—anything he could exploit as a chance to flirt. It was all playful, of course, and Mingi didn’t seem to take it too seriously, but Wooyoung wasn’t worried about that. His eyes had been on Mingi all night, but his mind was focused entirely on <em> San. </em> </p><p>San finished his meal, letting the plate rattle against the counter as he set it down harshly near the sink where Wooyoung had already gotten to work taking care of their dishes. A half-drunk glass of wine sat next to him on the counter, and he placed the stem between his fingers, watching as San stomped off to the bathroom silently. </p><p>Mingi turned to Wooyoung the second the door closed behind San.</p><p>“Hey, uh, I’ve been meaning to ask—you two are uh… a thing, right? Dating? That’s a human thing, isn’t it?”</p><p>“Oh—uh—San and I? No, no. God no. I mean, it depends on your view of it,” Wooyoung stammered, taken aback by the sudden question, then brushed it off with a dismissive shrug. “But… no, we’re not—it’s complicated, really. We’re, uh, business partners, you could say.”</p><p>He realized only now that he never actually explained to Mingi what he and San <em> were </em>—without any seals cracked, he was essentially a human, meaning he couldn’t see the sigils that connected them, nor could he sense what little immortal energy Wooyoung had electrifying inside him. He had no idea why Wooyoung orbited San like a moth to a flame.</p><p>The first time they’d met Mingi, San had his arm braced around Wooyoung’s waist protectively, and Wooyoung had been clinging to him like a scared cat. That, coupled with the fact that they lived in a one bedroom apartment, Mingi probably assumed Wooyoung was simply San’s human partner—which wouldn’t be an entirely incorrect assumption, considering they bickered like a married couple, barely saw anyone but each other on a daily basis, and fucked nearly every night (and sometimes mornings, too).  </p><p>Mingi’s eyebrows folded together, cocking his head slightly. “But why do you live together in a one bed—”</p><p>Wooyoung was saved by San pushing out of the bathroom door loudly, locking eyes with Wooyoung, who was leaning over the counter at Mingi in the barstool, just a bit too close for comfort. A wine glass teetered precariously between his fingertips, and he sipped at it in exaggeratedly slow motions, letting San—and Mingi—take in every tiny motion, every tip of his jaw, the way his blouse fell off his shoulder just a little too far. </p><p>He felt the way San seethed even from across the room, his red-hot energy almost palpable in the air as he made his way back to the kitchen. </p><p>“Mingi,” San said, his tone decidedly careful. “Maybe we can pick this up next week. I’m getting a little tired.”</p><p>Mingi nodded. “Yeah, that’s fine.” He turned his attention back to Wooyoung, who didn’t once let up his sultry act, not letting his eyes veer off of Mingi. “Thanks for the food, Wooyoung. It was amazing. Seriously, they’d probably hire you as a chef in our restaurant, if you wanted. You’re a thousand times better than any of the guys who work in the kitchen.” </p><p>“Aw, you’re gonna make me blush,” Wooyoung cooed, curling his lips up into a playful smile. His eyes flickered momentarily in San’s direction, just long enough to catch his dark, hooded gaze. </p><p>San was <em> not </em>happy. </p><p>Well, that answered his question, at least. San was jealous. He’d fallen right into Wooyoung’s carefully set trap—not that it was hard. Wooyoung probably didn’t have to do more than touch Mingi’s arm accidentally to set San’s jealousy off the rails. </p><p>But Wooyoung was Wooyoung—he liked to test limits. And test he did. He pushed, and pushed, and<em> pushed </em>way farther than he needed to. San was already seething the minute Wooyoung sauntered out of that room, swinging his hips, dressed to kill, and he spent every subsequent minute fanning the flames until San was ready to erupt. </p><p>San kept his goodbyes uncomfortably brief, nearly slamming the door behind Mingi the moment he was gone. Wooyoung considered pulling Mingi in for a hug before he left, but he assumed that would probably be overkill with the way San seemed to already be plotting Wooyoung’s reparations.</p><p>“Well that was fun, wasn’t it? We should have Mingi over m—”</p><p>A small gasp cut off Wooyoung’s train of thought as San’s fist connected with the wall next to him, pinning him against the wall of the entryway with alarming force. </p><p>“Shut up,” San growled. “Tell me what the <em> fuck </em> that was.”</p><p>Wooyoung blinked innocently, suppressing a smile. “I’m not sure what you mean.”</p><p>“Don’t play dumb, human. I’m not playing games with you. What was that?”</p><p>Wooyoung bit his lip, gazing at San with fake virtuosity.</p><p>“Fuck.” San’s fist connected with the wall again, and for a moment, Wooyoung worried he might actually crack the drywall. “Tell me what that was.<em> Tell me </em>.” </p><p>That’s when Wooyoung remembered—San had the emotional intelligence of a flea. He had no idea what it was to be jealous, what it was to feel for another person at all. All he knew was drinking and fucking his feelings into a stupor. He had no idea how to handle his emotions, the very few that he had, in any other way.</p><p>It was evident now, in the way he couldn’t contain the jealousy that seemed to course through him, boiling his blood as he stood over Wooyoung, letting anger replace the true cause of his discomfort: seeing Wooyoung just a bit too close to another guy. It didn’t matter if that guy was Mingi, who was so obviously disinterested by Wooyoung’s advances. It didn’t even matter that it was all just a game to Wooyoung. </p><p>San’s fist pounding against the wall, eyes glazed over with ire, venom dripping as he spoke in that dangerously deep tone, said it all. </p><p>He was consumed with jealousy.</p><p>Wooyoung told himself that he was only testing San, which would imply that he was uncertain about the outcome. But truthfully, Wooyoung knew, deep down, this would be the result all along. </p><p>This was what he wanted. He wanted to break San if it meant he might finally let himself go. He wanted to see how far he could push, and push, and push until San cracked his hard shell. And then he wanted to push just a<em> little </em> further. </p><p>The way San tensed his fingers against the wall, nails scratching at the paint, made Wooyoung almost worry he’d taken it too far. But there wasn’t any going back now. His bark was always worse than his bite, right?</p><p>San’s other hand connected to the wall with a harsh slap, caging Wooyoung in on both sides, who flinched beneath him at the sudden sound. </p><p>“Relax, I was just having a little fun,” Wooyoung cooed, keeping his voice an octave higher than usual, fluttering his eyelashes as he gazed up with an innocuous stare. “Don’t tell me you’re <em> jealous </em>?”  </p><p>A growl rolled through San’s throat, eyes hooded as he kept unwavering eye contact. “Bedroom.”</p><p>“Wh—”</p><p>“Bed. room.” </p><p>Wooyoung wasn’t arguing with that. San released his vice grip against the wall, and Wooyoung slipped out. San’s hand caught his wrist before he could go any further, fingers curling around the lace cuffs of his blouse, which hung far too loosely off his shoulders, threatening to slip completely off. San yanked him toward the room, not even bothering to look back as he dragged Wooyoung behind him. </p><p>It was dark, save for a dim lamp on the nightstand, which bounced off the corners of the walls, illuminating the room in a warm-white glow. Wooyoung expected San to lead him to the bed, but he paused in the middle of the room, hovering over him for a moment before his palms connected with Wooyoung’s shoulders, applying a quick force, toppling him to his knees. </p><p>Wooyoung looked up at San with a shit-eating grin as his knees dug into the carpet—probably not his best idea, considering the circumstances, and the lethal glint in San’s eyes. His thumb drew beneath Wooyoung’s chin, forcing it up until Wooyoung had no choice but to meet San’s fuming stare. </p><p>“You know exactly what you were doing,” he growled. </p><p>Wooyoung bit back another grin, wondering if it was time to stop pushing. San wasn’t just at his breaking point—he’d passed that a long time ago. San’s patience was shattered, harsh and jagged around the edges, and his icy gaze stabbed daggers through Wooyoung’s body. </p><p>He lived for it. He wanted more. He’d never pushed someone so far—and truly, what did he have to lose?</p><p>“Tell me, San,” Wooyoung purred beneath him, gazing up through wispy lashes, batting his eyes as if he had a halo decorating his head. “Tell me what I was doing.”</p><p>“Fuck—you were—<em> fuck </em>,” San hissed. </p><p>The smile escaped Wooyoung’s lips—he couldn’t hide the fun he was having anymore. “San, I was just having fun,” he admitted in a casual tone, flickering his eyes downwards towards his revealing outfit, even with the grip of San’s thumb forcing his jaw up. “I thought you liked it when I got all dressed up.”</p><p>“For <em> me. </em> I like when you get dressed up for <em> me. </em>”</p><p>Wooyoung hummed, letting his gaze meet with San’s again, twisting his lips into an amused smirk. “Well I’m here, aren’t I? Dressed up for you.”</p><p>San went silent, drawing his eyes up and down Wooyoung’s body—that dangerously sheer shirt, the tight black jeans, the black eyeliner lining his fake-innocent eyes. San’s other hand connected with Wooyoung’s bicep, tugging his arm up until Wooyoung was holding his right palm up in front of San, sigil glowing brightly. San held Wooyoung’s hand in his, tracing his index finger over the symbol in featherlight motions. </p><p>“You see this?” San cooed, eyes dropping to the brightly growing sigil, swirling his finger along the lines.  “What does it mean, hmm? Tell me.” Wooyoung blinked, and San threaded a hand through his hair, tugging it upwards, forcing his gaze back up. “<em> What does it mean </em>?”</p><p>Wooyoung was all for feigning ignorance, but he genuinely couldn’t tell where San was going with this. “I—I don’t—”</p><p>“It means you’re mine, human.”</p><p>Wooyoung went silent, breath catching in his throat. San probably didn’t even know what he was saying—he was livid, seething beneath the surface with a jealous fire he’d probably never experienced in his life. There was no doubting it now, though. Wooyoung wasn’t just a liability to San anymore. He was way, way more. </p><p>A harsh tug shook Wooyoung back to reality.</p><p>“Say it.”</p><p>“Say w—”</p><p>“<em> Say it. </em>What are you?”</p><p>“Y—yours,” Wooyoung stammered. He felt like the breath had been knocked out of him. He didn’t even know San was capable of this kind of possessiveness. He knew he took it too far, he knew it. But he didn’t realize it would lead him here. </p><p>“What was that?”</p><p>“I’m yours,” Wooyoung repeated, heat pooling in his cheeks at the compromising admission. Sure, it was all just part of the game to him—but <em> was </em>it?</p><p>“Louder, human.”</p><p>“I’m yours,” Wooyoung repeated again, louder. He felt a harsh tug in his hair. </p><p>“My what?”</p><p>“Your… your human,” Wooyoung stammered. </p><p>San traced the edges of the sigil with a soft smile, then released Wooyoung’s palm, letting it fall to his side, then wrapped his fingers around Wooyoung’s throat, applying light pressure. “Remember that, human. Understand?”</p><p>Wooyoung nodded feverishly the second San dropped his hand, feeling the rush of submission electrify his senses “Y—yes.”</p><p>“Good.”</p><p>Wooyoung realized this was probably the closest San would ever get to a confession of his feelings—not that Wooyoung wanted one—but the signs were getting harder to ignore. San didn’t know how to express emotions that weren’t directly influenced by his dick, after all. Speaking of San’s dick, Wooyoung was staring right at it, and he wanted it <em>now. </em></p><p>“San,” Wooyoung called softly, digging his knees further into the carpet. He brought his sigiled palm up to San’s thigh, pressing down lightly before dragging it upwards, connecting with San’s dick through his pants.</p><p>San’s hand slapped around Wooyoung’s wrist, digging red marks through the black lace cuffs as he pulled Wooyoung’s hand away. “I didn’t tell you you could touch me.”</p><p>Wooyoung’s mind reeled. “Wh—”</p><p>“You think you deserve it, after what you did all night?”</p><p>“What, making you jealous?” Wooyoung tested. <em> Shit. </em>He really needed to stop that. </p><p>“I’m not <em> jealous </em> ,” San hissed. <em> You’re such a bad liar, San. </em> “You just—shit. You can't just go around <em> looking like that </em> around—fuck.”</p><p>Wooyoung’s lips curled into a sly smile—a bad habit. “What are you saying, San? You’re saying you’re not okay with me flirting with other guys, is that it?”</p><p>San gritted his teeth together, visibly fighting back something that Wooyoung couldn’t quite place. Wooyoung wasn’t sure what he wanted San to admit, if anything—he was only testing. </p><p>But what would he do if San actually admitted he wanted some sort of exclusivity with Wooyoung. What then?</p><p>San puffed hot air between his teeth. “I’m not—I’m just saying you’re mine, you insolent brat. I can fuck you better than anyone else can.” <em> Yes. </em> “I can make you shake, I can make you fucking <em> faint </em> .” The grip around Wooyoung’s wrist grew tighter, pinching at his skin, nearly cutting off the circulation. “I can have you begging and crying for me. I can fucking <em> ruin you </em> . You have no <em> clue </em>what I’m capable of. So why don’t you quit being a brat and tell me what you want, and maybe I’ll consider letting you touch me.” </p><p>That was enough. That was enough to shut the brat in Wooyoung up entirely. This was what Wooyoung craved—someone who would fight back when Wooyoung inevitably pushed them to their limits. He lusted after the feeling of submission, but not after putting up a good fight. But now, kneeling beneath San’s domineering position, he wanted to melt like putty in his fingertips. </p><p>“I want—I want to touch you,” Wooyoung begged, pressing his fingertips lightly against San’s thighs.</p><p>“Not good enough.”</p><p>“P—please, San, I want—I want to touch you. I want to taste you. San, please.”</p><p>San’s eyes glimmered dangerously, tugging Wooyoung’s eyes on him again. “I know you <em> want </em> it, human. Look at you, practically fucking drooling. I want to know why you <em> deserve </em> it.”</p><p>“Because—because… I’m sorry. I’m sorry I acted that way in front of your friend—I won’t do it again, I swear. I’ll be good. Please, I’ll be good now.”</p><p>“And why’s that?”</p><p>Wooyoung desperately clawed at San’s thighs, noting the saliva that pooled on his tongue. San was right, he was practically drooling now at the idea of San’s cock. His compromising position, kneeling vulnerably beneath San, was all his own dick needed to start throbbing in his jeans. </p><p>“Because I’m yours.”</p><p>He paused, humming as he drew his eyes across Wooyoung’s face, scanning for something, then slowly began fumbling at his belt buckle right in Wooyoung’s line of sight without another word. Wooyoung fought back the drool that threatened to spill from the corners of his mouth as San slipped his pants off. He’d seen his cock so many times at this point, but something about this time felt different. </p><p>San let Wooyoung’s hands—which grasped needily at San’s clothes, searching for anywhere to grip—take over removing his clothes, and Wooyoung eagerly tugged at the hem of his pants as soon as he had the buttons undone. </p><p>San’s hands instead found themselves on Wooyoung’s bare shoulders, stroking the soft skin and twirling the collar of Wooyoung’s blouse, letting it slide off his arms, pooling at the lace cuffs at his wrists, then releasing with a shake. San’s fingernails grazed across the skin on his chest, dancing along the sharp cut of Wooyoung’s collarbones, but he was too busy tugging down San’s underwear to care. </p><p>The minute he released San’s cock from his underwear, his lips were on it, kissing and lapping gently at the tip, reveling in the way it twitched beneath his hand grasped around the base.  </p><p>San’s hand threaded through his hair, pushing Wooyoung away with a harsh yank. “Whoa, whoa. You think you can have my cock that easily, <em> human </em>?”</p><p>Disappointment washed over Wooyoung’s features, eyebrows pulling upwards and lip pulling out in a pout. “Wait, but you said—”</p><p>San’s expression twitched softer for just a fleeting moment before he straightened up, a stern look settling across his face.  “What did I say, hmm, <em> human </em>? I never said anything.”</p><p>“No, you—” Wooyoung searched his brain, realizing that San had never actually said anything, just started removing his clothes.<em> Shit. </em></p><p>“Please, San—I said I was sorry, I just want to touch you, I want to—please, please—I want—<em> mmh </em>—” </p><p>Wooyoung’s pleads were muffled by the head of San’s cock shoving between his lips, parting them forcefully, then plunging deep in his throat without warning. Wooyoung’s palms braced against San’s thighs as he held his cock still inside him, scraping the back of his throat in a way that made tears well up in the corners of his eyes. </p><p>“So noisy,” San cooed with a condescending pout. “That’s much better.”</p><p>Wooyoung gagged against his hold, San keeping steady at the back of his throat until tears rolled down Wooyoung cheeks, collecting at his jaw and dripping down to the carpet. San pulled out after a few beats, and he gasped for air, before San snapped Wooyoung’s eyes back up with a thumb under his chin. He undoubtedly looked like a mess—smeared eyeliner, red eyes, hair a mess from where San had tugged at it, but San looked at him with a lustful, hooded gaze. </p><p>“You look so pretty choking on my cock,” San purred. “So... are you gonna be good now?”</p><p>Wooyoung nodded feverishly. “Yes, yes, I’ll be good. I swear.” </p><p>“You know what happens if you’re not,” he continued, dark gaze unbreaking, voice deep and rich. “And remember,<em>  red </em>if I’m too much for your pathetic little human form, hmm?”</p><p>Wooyoung was still nodding, but it was barely visible as he went back to work on San’s cock, running his tongue in deliberate swipes up and down the shaft. Wooyoung parted his lips, letting San slide in slowly, but San had clearly different plans. He braced his fingers into Wooyoung’s hair, gripping tightly as he fucked into him. Delectable moans tumbled out of his mouth, singing Wooyoung praises as he rutted against his mouth. Wooyoung gagged against his cock, but his lips couldn’t help but twitch up into a satisfied smile at the rough way San was handling him. This was what he wanted from San all along—to be used, to be fucked into submission. This was what he lived for. </p><p>San pushed him off suddenly without a word, swiveling on his heels suddenly, leaving Wooyoung trembling in his wake, hands fumbling forward with nothing to grasp on. </p><p>San took a seat at the edge of the bed, beckoning Wooyoung over with a few taps on his thigh. Wooyoung eagerly took the cue, straddling over his thighs and hoisting himself up on San’s lap after slipping the rest of his clothes off, making sure to make a show of it. San may have taken the power, but Wooyoung could at least bask in the high he got from San’s eyes trained on him. </p><p>Their cocks pushed up between their stomachs, rubbing against each other as Wooyoung shifted his hips around on San’s lap. San pulled Wooyoung in for a sloppy kiss, one hand caressing Wooyoung’s jaw, the other fumbling behind his back for something. Wooyoung couldn’t help but buck his hips up at the feeling of San’s dick against his, warm and twitching, sticky with saliva, marveling in the sweet pressure against his own. </p><p>Wooyoung could hear the familiar sound of the lube cap being popped open, and a small amount being distributed on San’s fingers. San’s hand snaked around Wooyoung’s back, sliding along his ass before hooking under to swirl around Wooyoung’s entrance in slow motions. He didn’t need much prep—after all, they’d been fucking morning and night for over a month. But still, he melted against San as his finger slipped inside, tongue dipping into Wooyoung’s mouth at the same time, drawing over the back of his teeth. </p><p>San’s kisses traveled down Wooyoung’s neck, humming against the surface, sending electricity rolling down Wooyoung’s spine. His kisses were slow, sensual and deliberate, suckling just long enough at the skin to plant angry red marks along the surface, but not enough to bruise. Though Wooyoung wouldn’t have minded, being marked and branded by a constellation of hickeys—after all the talk of Wooyoung being <em> San’s, </em>it would only make sense. </p><p>San’s teeth dragged along the surface of his neck, and Wooyoung shivered beneath him as a second finger slipped inside him easily. </p><p>“Want your cock,” Wooyoung breathed between whimpers. “P-please…”</p><p>“Is that so?” San purred against his neck, letting his hot breath wash over his skin, irritated from the way San nibbled across the surface. Wooyoung tensed, wondering what tricks San might pull next—he couldn’t have mended his anger that quickly, but his next words triggered a wave of relief to wash through  Wooyoung’s body. “I suppose you’ve been good.”</p><p>San released his fingers with a lewd noise as they slipped out. San’s hands found a home grasped around the small of Wooyoung’s waist, clawing at the skin so hard Wooyoung was sure he’d be marked with red lines for days. </p><p>“Sit,” San commanded.</p><p>Wooyoung melted at San’s authoritative tone as he pushed his hips up. His legs were already trembling underneath him just from the thought of riding him like this. Velvety-rich moans dripped from San’s tongue as Wooyoung sunk down, barely bothering with pleasantries. He was a seasoned professional, after all. He cried out as he eased down, arms hooked over San’s shoulders to stabilize himself. </p><p>San’s fingers trailed up Wooyoung’s back, tracing along the cut of his shoulder blades before fisting in Wooyoung’s hair, yanking his head back until their eyes met, barely inches away. “Eyes on me. And you <em> don’t </em> take them off,” San growled. “Understand?”</p><p>Wooyoung only whimpered in response as San’s hips bucked up into him. He felt filled to the absolute brim like this. </p><p>“I said, <em> understand? </em>”</p><p>“Yes—yes,” Wooyoung whined. “Yes—I—<em> ah </em>—understand.”</p><p>San let out a self-satisfied grunt as he rutted his hips in further, sending heat rushing to Wooyoung’s stomach. Wooyoung did everything he could to maintain eye contact with San, with San tugging at his hair every time he so much as closed his eyes for more than just a blink. </p><p>“I said look at me," San repeated.</p><p>Wooyoung’s thighs burned as he pulled up and sunk down in a constant rhythm, circling his hips playfully. Whimpers couldn’t help but pour out, and every so often, San would buck his hips up into him, thrusting so hard Wooyoung felt like he might black out, instinctively falling against San’s shoulder. </p><p>San’s hand yanked him back up, clicking his tongue against his teeth in displeasure. “What about <em> eyes on me </em>don’t you understand? Is that too much for your little human brain, hmm?”</p><p>“S-sorry,” Wooyoung stammered, voice coming out in shaky breaths between little yelps of pleasure. He knew was loud during sex—it was part of his brand, really—but he couldn’t help it, no matter how much he tried to bite them back. </p><p>“So noisy,” San purred, lingering his lips so that they grazed against Wooyoung’s as he spoke, their foreheads grinding against each other’s. “Do you ever shut up, hmm?” </p><p>Before Wooyoung could respond, two fingers parted his lips, thrusting inside to muffle the moans that threatened to escape. He gagged around them, eyes going watery as he struggled to maintain eye contact. He felt full everywhere, his mouth stuffed with San’s fingers as his cock thrust inside him in sloppy motions. </p><p>“I said,” San growled, keeping his voice deep. “Eyes. on. me.”</p><p>Wooyoung nodded around San’s fingers, muffled noises seeping out from the edges. His eyesight was blurry, clouded by heavy lids and tears welling at the perimeter of his vision, but he could see enough to make out the way San’s eyes sparkled while he took in the scene in front of him—Wooyoung, a whiny, teary-eyed mess choking surround his fingers, thighs trembling as he struggled to keep up his pace on San’s cock. </p><p>His own cock slapped against his stomach, leaking with a generous amount precum, still untouched.</p><p>“San,” Wooyoung moaned, but it came out incomprehensible with San’s fingers still plunged back in his throat.</p><p>San slipped his fingers out, halting the motion of his hips and bracing both hands on Wooyoung’s ass now, shoving downwards to prompt him to do the same. Wooyoung stilled, feeling the way he clenched around San’s cock now that everything froze around him. </p><p>“What’s that?”</p><p>“San—I—can I touch myself?”</p><p>“That’s cute,” San praised softly, glancing down at Wooyoung’s cock, which was twitching for attention. “No.”</p><p>“S-san—”</p><p>“I said no, human. Are you gonna argue?” </p><p>Wooyoung shook his head, limbs trembling. He craved release more than anything, and his thighs burned from the workout. Wooyoung used to love riding his partners—but he forgot how much it <em> hurt </em>. </p><p>“But…” San continued, letting his hand curl around Wooyoung’s waiting cock, swirling the precum around the head before cupping his hand around the tip, then pumping downwards in slow, drawn-out motions. “I never said <em> I </em>wouldn’t.”</p><p>San’s hips stayed still as he worked his hand up and down Wooyoung’s shaft, every so often rubbing his thumb across the head, clearly indulging in the way Wooyoung squirmed so desperately beneath his touch. A devilish smirk played up on the corners of his lips, and Wooyoung knew what was coming the minute his grip tightened around Wooyoung’s cock just as Wooyoung started the string of curses and whines that would inevitably lead to his release.</p><p>“Fuck—nononono—” Wooyoung whimpered, feeling that familiar shock of electricity. He was frozen again, just on the brink, that overwhelming knot stuck twisting in his core.</p><p>“Tell me what you are,” San demanded.</p><p>“Wha—I don’t—”</p><p>“<em> What are you, </em> Wooyoung?”</p><p>“Yours,” Wooyoung blurted out, barely registering the words. His mind was an incomprehensible string of <em> fuckfuckfuck </em> and <em> pleaseIneedtocome. </em></p><p>“My what?”</p><p>“Your human, your human—please, oh my god—fuck—”</p><p>“Don’t forget.”</p><p>“I won’t—I won’t—I wont—” Wooyoung pleaded. </p><p>Just as his brain overloaded, San sent another current of electricity through his body, allowing him to finally register his orgasm. One stroke sent him over the edge, painting his and San’s stomach with messy ribbons of cum. It was so, so quick, yet the effect of the frozen time was just as overstimulating, flooding his entire body with small shocks of pleasure, cascading through his limbs in waves. His body went limp once his orgasm ceased, and San’s hands cupped under his ass, pulling him off his dick slowly. </p><p>“On the ground,” San commanded, but his tone was softer now. Wooyoung slid off San’s lap, collapsing to his knees in front of him. He transfixed his eyes on San’s hand, which pumped at his own cock in a rough, clumsy rhythm. His other hand tipped Wooyoung’s chin up once again, their gazes following each other’s, eye contact unwavering. Balmy moans poured out through his lips as the cum spilled over, decorating Wooyoung’s face in strips of cum—painting his lips, his cheeks, and dribbling down his chin.  </p><p>“Fuck,” San moaned finally, stroking himself through the end of his own orgasm. It was so simple, and yet Wooyoung could swear he’d never seen something so hot in his life—San, pretty moans dripping out from his mouth, keeping eye contact with Wooyoung as he jerked himself off right in front of him. </p><p>Wooyoung panted beneath him, all the events of the night compounding in his chest. His breaths felt too shallow and heavy at the same time. He glanced up at San, unsure exactly what to expect after how angry he had been, but to his surprise, San’s expression had softened significantly. </p><p>“Come here,” San breathed, visibly fighting his own lungs for air. He extended his arms, and Wooyoung used them as support as he hoisted himself to his feet, tripping forward into San’s chest, smearing the remnants of cum between their bodies as they toppled down into the mattress together. </p><p>It could have been seconds, minutes, or hours that they laid there, a sweaty mess of limbs tangled together. Wooyoung couldn’t tell, panting breathlessly against each other’s necks until their hearts both started beating normally. San’s arms curled around Wooyoung’s waist, almost on instinct as they laid together—warm, close, intimate. He didn’t want to move, but San rolled away at some point, plodding across the apartment for a damp towel to clean up their mess. </p><p>Wooyoung mustered the energy to crawl up the bed to the pillows before San got back, holding a towel in one hand and a pile of fresh clothes bunched up in the other. Wooyoung extended his hand for the towel, but San kept it clenched tightly in his own fist. </p><p>“I got it,” Wooyoung insisted.</p><p>“I—I’ll do it this time,” San muttered, crawling up on the bed to wipe at Wooyoung’s skin. “Do you hurt anywhere?”</p><p>“W-why are you asking?”</p><p>“I was rough,” San said, his voice barely registering above a mumble. </p><p>“Oh. No. No, it was fine. I’m fine. I liked it,” Wooyoung reassured, face flushing red. </p><p>San was always much milder after sex, but never like this. Perhaps it was because he’d been keeping it toned down since Wooyoung passed out from the first time he’d edged him. This time, he didn’t hold back—though, there was still a part of Wooyoung that knew he was capable of so much more. </p><p>San didn’t say much, instead focusing all his energy on cleaning up the mess he’d made on Wooyoung, his whole body and face painted with sticky residue. As San cleaned himself off, Wooyoung gathered the clothes he’d brought for him—one of San’s soft sleep tees, and a pair of underwear from Wooyoung’s duffel. Once they were both semi-clothed, and only barely clean, San slipped under the covers, assuming his usual place, arms wrapping tightly around Wooyoung’s body. </p><p>Wooyoung felt tired—absolutely fucking exhausted—but even as he closed his eyes, letting the rise and fall of San’s chest calm him, he couldn’t seem to locate sleep anywhere inside him. And also, he <em> really </em> had to pee.  </p><p>“I’m gonna—I need to go to the bathroom,” Wooyoung muttered, rolling out of San’s embrace. They’d probably been laying there for nearly an hour, but he could tell San was still awake by the rhythm of his heartbeat. </p><p>“You need help up?” </p><p>“No—no. I think I can walk on my own. I’m not going to pass out or anything. This time, at least.” </p><p>Wooyoung’s knees nearly buckled underneath him when he tried to stand, and for a moment, he could have sworn his own legs disappeared, but he stood up anyway. He stumbled to the bathroom, navigating the apartment blindly, with only the soft filtering of moonlight through the living room window to guide his path. His thighs burned and his bones felt like jelly, but he really needed to fucking pee. </p><p>He pushed through the bathroom door, but something wasn’t quite right. The tickle in his throat was back, except this time, electricity burned in his stomach, setting his limbs on fire with more than just post-sex ache. </p><p>He doubled over on the bathroom floor, scraping his bare knees against the cold tile as they slammed down, but he didn’t have time to think about the bruises that would inevitably form. He could only feel the harsh cough that erupted through his throat, burning his lungs as he hacked, folding over his stomach. He coughed and coughed, until it felt like he’d run out of air in his lungs, and then he coughed even more, hands bracing against the floor tiles. </p><p>He heard a loud sound behind him, and the clattering of footsteps pounding across the apartment. San’s knees slammed down behind him.</p><p>“Wooyoung, what the hell? Are you okay?” San asked, voice climbing an octave higher than usual. Wooyoung attempted to stabilize himself, but the tickle in his throat remained uncomfortable, and his voice barely registered above a croak when he tried to speak. “Hey, hey, Wooyoung. What happened? Did you choke on something?”</p><p>Wooyoung shook his head furiously. “No,” he managed, coughing again. “I don’t know wh—”</p><p>He was nearly folded in a fetal position on the bathroom floor, his body wracked by the force of his coughs. They quieted now, but he still had to clear his throat to keep from choking on whatever was irritating his lungs. </p><p>San’s arms folded around him from behind, applying light pressure upwards. “Can you stand up? Here, come here,” he prompted, helping Wooyoung pull to his feet. The second he found his footing, another cough erupted, and he braced against the sink. </p><p>It was still dark in the bathroom—he hadn’t even had the chance to flip the light switch on before the cough hit him—but there was just enough light filtering from the living room to make out a dark liquid splattered against the bright-white ceramic of the sink. </p><p>Was he coughing…. blood?</p><p>“Fuck—Wooyoung, fuck,” San muttered, panic creeping through his voice. He fumbled for the light switch, and it flickered on to reveal a thick red mucus coating the sink, staining it a sickening crimson. </p><p>“I’m—I’m fine,” Wooyoung croaked. “I’m fine.”</p><p>San kept his hands placed firmly at Wooyoung’s waist, holding him steady until his coughs subsided. “No, you’re not. You’re <em> not. </em>” </p><p>“I’m… fine…” </p><p>Wooyoung reached for the sink handle, but San tugged Wooyoung towards him, pulling him flush against his chest in a tight embrace. </p><p>They’d held each other so many nights, but this was different. This was so much different. Wooyoung’s cheek squished against San’s soft sleep shirt, listening to the faint heartbeat. Wooyoung couldn't tell how much time passed like that, soft hiccups replacing harsh coughs in his chest as he stood in San’s arms. San was warm, unlike the cold tile he’d collapsed on. </p><p>“Let me take you back to the bedroom,” San said firmly, refusing to let up his grip even when Wooyoung tried to wriggle out, realizing he still had to <em> fucking pee </em>.  </p><p>“I—I can walk, San. It was just a cough, I must have choked on something or—”</p><p>“Stop,” San breathed. “Stop.”</p><p>“I have to pee,” Wooyoung said dismissively, wriggling out of San’s grip. </p><p>He knew San was right—he wasn’t fine. A light cough had been creeping up on him for the last week or two, but not like this. Not like this at all. But he didn’t want to admit it. He didn’t want San to treat him like glass. </p><p>“Okay,” San sighed. “I’m gonna stand outside the door, though, alright? Just in case.”</p><p>Wooyoung nodded reluctantly, then shut the door behind him while he finished his business in the bathroom. </p><p>San was waiting expectantly outside when he emerged, arms open. “Let me carry you back to the bedroom.”</p><p>“San—” </p><p>“It’s not a question.”</p><p>Wooyoung glanced up, and there was just enough residual light to see the serious glint in San’s eyes, concern pinching between his eyebrows. </p><p>San stepped forward, scooping Wooyoung up without further argument, carting him off to the bedroom with Wooyoung’s arms wrapped around his neck. He deposited Wooyoung on the mattress as soon as they got through the door, then pulled the comforter over him. Wooyoung opened his mouth to say something, though he wasn’t sure what. <em> Thank you </em>, maybe. But San had already disappeared to the kitchen. </p><p>He returned with a glass of water in his hands, propping himself up on the edge of the bed and holding it delicately in his hand. He held the cool glass up to Wooyoung’s mouth, teetering the brim on Wooyoung’s bottom lip and tilting until a small amount dribbled onto his tongue. The ice water salved his throat, which was raw from coughing.  </p><p>“Why are you… Why are you being this nice to me?” Wooyoung asked in a whisper as San pulled the glass away. </p><p>“I don’t know.”</p><p>“Well, that’s nice of you,” Wooyoung chuckled, but it burned his throat to laugh. </p><p>“I mean—I don’t know. Because it makes me, uh—I don’t like when you’re hurting, I guess. It makes <em> my </em>chest hurt.”</p><p>Wooyoung glanced at San, letting his eyes settle on him silently for a few moments, unsure of how to respond. He opened his mouth to respond, but suddenly, his body felt like lead beneath him. </p><p>“I’m—I think I need sleep,” Wooyoung muttered. </p><p>San nodded, then shook himself of the flush that crept up his cheeks. He set the glass against the nightstand carefully as he slipped back under the covers, letting Wooyoung nuzzle up against him. </p><p>Wooyoung couldn’t help but to give in to the fuzzy feeling that squirmed in his stomach when San pulled his arms around him. </p><p>He and San had spelled it all out tonight, in no uncertain terms. It wasn’t a game anymore, was it?</p><p>He didn’t feel it then, but he felt it now. </p><p>Tonight, he was San’s. And tomorrow, he probably would be too.  </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>hi i wrote this 7.5k monster in less than one day and my vision got all blurry and i think I blacked out for a second so please enjoy this crazy thing :')</p><p>i know this chapter was mostly smut but,,, i am so soft for them you have no idea</p><p>comments are appreciated especially for this chapter bc oh boy oh boy !! anyway love you all &lt;3</p>
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<a name="section0020"><h2>20. lapsus memoriae</h2></a>
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</p><p>2pm.</p><p>Wooyoung winced. The clock must have been fucking with him. He could have sworn it was 1:58 about three hours ago. </p><p>The monotonous clacking of his fingers across the keyboard drowned out all the sounds around him. A lukewarm cup of half-drunk black coffee taunted him to his right, and he felt the urge to ‘accidentally’ nudge it with his elbow, destroying his computer and ruining the papers on his desk. Maybe then he’d get to go home. </p><p>The rest of his coworkers were off doing god-knows-what—probably fucking around in one of the conference rooms, pretending to have a meeting when they were trash-talking the management. Wooyoung was never invited, not that he had the time anyway—he was a menial data entry pig for his boss to exploit, coming in to a disturbingly large stack of papers piled on his desk every morning. He was often forced to stay late, and his boss never compensated for the overtime, even though Wooyoung was pretty sure that was <em>really</em> fucking illegal. It’s not like he had the money—or time—to take that to court, though.  </p><p>“Mr. Jung,” his boss called, poking his head into the shared cubicle, though he was the only one there. “Can you join me in my office for a moment?”</p><p>Wooyoung stopped typing, relieved to get a short break from the pain of his encroaching carpal tunnel. It wasn’t uncommon for his boss to ask him into his office—he was always shoving more work on him, as if he had time. “Yes, of course. I’ll be right there.”</p><p>He followed him to his office, a stuffy, undecorated glass box with a desk and two chairs. Wooyoung took a seat in the soft, swiveling office chair, fiddling with his hands in his lap. </p><p>A sickening feeling crept up on him as he watched his boss’ expression grow serious, fingers threading together on the desk in front of him. </p><p>“So, uh… what did you need to see me for?” Wooyoung probed. </p><p>“Well, Mr. Jung. I got some... unfortunate news today regarding your position at the company.”</p><p>“W-what is it?” </p><p>“Your department is being dissolved. It was a decision from the executive board—I had no say in it, unfortunately. You’re a great worker, but I’m afraid we won’t be able to keep you on with us.”</p><p>Wooyoung’s heart dropped to his stomach. He hated—no, <em> detested </em>—his job, but he needed it. “My entire department? What about my colleagues? Are they being—are you letting them go too?”</p><p>“They’re being reassigned to different departments for the time being. But unfortunately, we weren’t able to find a new place for you. Without a completed college degree, your skill sets are just not at the level we need for other departments.”</p><p>“I—are you sure there’s nothing I can do? Anything—not even data entry for another department? I hate to ask this, sir, but I—well, I’m already behind on this rent payment, and without this job I—”</p><p>“I’m sorry.  It’s really out of my hands, Mr. Jung. But we thank you for your service with our company, and wish you the best. You don’t have to finish your work today. Just leave it on the desk with the rest of your things, including your keycard and all other company property.”</p><p><em> No. </em> This couldn’t happen. He was already on bad terms with his management for his late rent payments, and he couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten real food that wasn't rice or ten-cent ramen. This job was the last thing keeping him afloat, and even then, just barely.</p><p>Wooyoung’s voice went quiet, wavering as he spoke. “Will I—I’ve been working here for years, do I get any sort of severance?”</p><p>“Unfortunately, we aren’t able to offer you severance due to your position as a part-time worker.”</p><p><em> Part-time </em> his ass. He was working over 40 hours some weeks thanks to his overtime, but they refused to salary him, or even compensate him for the extra time. It was all so fucked. </p><p>Wooyoung said nothing, slamming the glass door behind him as he left the office, hoping it might break. It didn’t. </p><p>Time came to what felt like a screeching halt—almost as if it was flowing backwards in the days, weeks, months that followed his termination. The days crawled, and he either slept too long or not at all. There was no point in leaving the apartment anymore, and even less point in taking care of himself. He kept the blinds shuttered closed, blurring the line between morning and night, light and dark, living and barely existing at all. Wooyoung was doing the latter. </p><p>He ignored the letters his management slipped through the crack of his door, alerting him of his late rent, watching them pile up apathetically until he finally opened it, letting the mess of folded up papers flutter to the floor, warning him of his incoming eviction. </p><p>He barely remembered the days that followed, time blurring together until he woke up, prepared his last serving of shitty black coffee—as if it mattered—and set off to the roof with 9 hours on the clock until his eviction.</p><p>But Wooyoung wasn’t counting. That number would be arbitrary in a matter of minutes.</p><p>Time had never been on Wooyoung’s side. </p><p>Not then, and certainly not now.</p><p>
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</p><p>Wooyoung had always felt like time had moved slowly for him, but now, faced with the ticking time bomb that was his own body, time proved to be a slippery piece of shit. It wriggled from his grasp so easily, and it felt as though he barely blinked before three months had slipped away. </p><p>Maybe it was his newfound routine of sleep-eat-fuck-repeat making the days blur together. Maybe it was because time always seems to move faster when you’re hurling towards a deadline. Or maybe it was because he had just started to lose track of things altogether, like what day it was, or what he cooked for dinner the night before.</p><p>Wooyoung knew to expect some sort of sickness, but he didn’t expect it to happen so soon. It started as only a cough, and while it wasn’t always a horrible fit of hacking blood, it was a sickness nonetheless. His body ached inconveniently, and he was starting to lose track of his own thoughts. </p><p>
  <em> Cough. Delirium. Consumption.  </em>
</p><p>Yunho gave him a year max, but Wooyoung didn’t expect to already feel the effects at only 7 months. It was only a cough so far. Sometimes he felt a little out of it, too, but it was nothing that couldn’t be explained by prolonged isolation. That, and his body was always so fucking <em> tired </em>—aching like he’d just spent several hours exercising, except all the time.</p><p>There wasn’t much to do but wait for Yunho to narrow in on the fifth seal. In the meantime, San spent a lot of time with Mingi, and Wooyoung with Yeosang—it was the only time they really got with anyone but each other, after all. </p><p>Wooyoung still hadn’t updated Yeosang on… well, pretty much anything. The last Yeosang heard, San was trying to break his seals, and Wooyoung and San were fucking. They’d hung out between then, of course, but Wooyoung liked to keep conversation light—anywhere but on the shit he faced every day.</p><p>"I brought stuff to make pork cutlet bowls.” Yeosang said, setting the large reusable bag he brought with him on the counter. “Remember how much we used to eat these? You'd think I'd be sick of them by now, but no one makes them better than you." He dug in the back pulling out neatly-wrapped cuts of raw pork. "And I got the really good stuff, too. None of those cheap day old bargain-bin cuts we used to get back in our teens."</p><p>Wooyoung smiled, admiring the nostalgic ingredients—although the real nostalgia would come from eating them. “Oh my god, I can’t believe you brought this. You’re right, you<em> should </em> be sick of them,” he joked, then dug through the bag himself, looking at what Yeosang brought. “Wait, I make these with, uh, Panko right? I’m sure I have some somewhere around here. And what… what was in the sauce again?”</p><p>"Oh my God, Wooyoung, don't tell me you forgot the recipe!" Yeosang exclaimed. "Come on, didn't you make them for me for like, pretty much every day for six months straight back in high school?"</p><p>"Yeah, I was kind of obsessed with making them, wasn't I?” Wooyoung chuckled. “Man, San kept me up with all his snoring last night—I'm probably just not thinking straight," Wooyoung lied. He slept fine, he just truly could not fucking <em> remember </em>. He reached for his phone on the counter. "I'll just look up a recipe. Probably will turn out better that way, anyway."</p><p>Yeosang shrugged. “Whatever you say."</p><p>Yeosang didn’t know, after all. He didn’t know that Wooyoung was out of it more often than not. He was fully cognizant, of course, completely aware—it was just little things, like walking in and out of rooms, forgetting why he even walked there in the first place, and feeling a bit too exhausted after doing something that required any amount of thought.</p><p>And it was little things like now, when he spun in circles in the kitchen, not quite remembering which cabinet held the cutting board. </p><p>“You good?” Yeosang asked, probably noticing the dazed look on Wooyoung’s face as he glanced around at the cabinets.</p><p>“Y-yeah. San’s always moving shit around in here.”<em> Lies. </em>“Just wondering where he put the damn cutting board this time.” </p><p>
  <em> Stop lying. Tell him. </em>
</p><p>Guilt gnawed at Wooyoung’s body—guilt for not having the guts to tell Yeosang he was basically dying all over again, except worse, somehow. Guilt that he was such a coward. Guilt that he could never stop running away from his hurt. </p><p>It was too late though, Yeosang had already moved on.</p><p>“Speaking of <em> San </em>…” Yeosang cooed, leaning in on his elbows and resting his chin against his palms. “How are things between you two? Last I heard, you were—”</p><p>“Shhh, he’s in the other room, asshole.”</p><p>Yeosang held his hands up defensively. “Sorry, sorry. I’m just wondering, you guys a <em> thing </em> yet? Because if so, I called it.”</p><p>Wooyoung couldn’t hide the incriminating blush that dusted his cheeks, one that told Yeosang everything he needed to know.</p><p>They weren't <em> together </em> —at least Wooyoung didn't think so, anyway. Not in the traditional sense of the word. But there was definitely something between them that wasn’t there before, and it was probably glaringly obvious. One thing that Wooyoung learned in the past 3 months, starting the day San declared Wooyoung <em> his </em>, was that San was a lot more clingy than he’d imagined he'd be. He didn’t know if it was San’s jealousy manifesting, or if Wooyoung had awakened something inside him, but either way, San couldn’t keep his hands off him, especially when other people were around. </p><p>But still, they never exactly defined that they were something, not in words. Neither Wooyoung nor San would ever dare admit to having feelings, but it was generally acknowledged between them—just unspoken.</p><p>Aside from the fact that San wasn’t really<em> relationship </em> material, and probably wouldn’t even know how to express a desire for one in the first place, labels between them grew increasingly arbitrary as the clock ticked down. After all, would it even really matter in the end? Wooyoung was running on borrowed time. </p><p>Wooyoung opened his mouth to retort, but only a string of stutters tumbled out weakly. Shit. He couldn’t even pretend.</p><p>As if on cue, San emerged from the bedroom, and Wooyoung shot Yeosang a poisonous glance that said—roughly—<em> I swear to god if you say anything I will kill you. </em> Yeosang gave a tiny gesture of zipping his lips closed, biting back a laugh. </p><p>San hooked a hand around Wooyoung’s waist as he entered the kitchen, where Wooyoung was standing, still puttering around in cabinets for ingredients. San's hands traveled dangerously near the hem of Wooyoung’s shirt, claiming his territory with absent strokes on his skin. </p><p>“You gonna make some for me, too?” San asked, voice smooth and honeyed, shooting a brief glance at Yeosang. It was so obvious what he was doing—Yeosang was no threat to San, and yet he couldn’t help but act like he might snatch Wooyoung away at any moment. </p><p>“Hey, I don’t come bother you and Mingi when you’re together,” Wooyoung grumbled, shaking San’s hand off him. </p><p>Heat flushed his cheeks, embarrassed at how pliant he became under San’s touch, even if it was barely anything. Truthfully, if Yeosang weren’t there, he’d have already been on his knees. But Yeosang <em> was </em> there, staring with that I-told-you-so smile, and Wooyoung felt his heart beating just a bit too fast. </p><p>“Mm, I see how it is,” San said, looking even more smug than Wooyoung as he swiped a cup of water off the counter. “Well you know where to find me.”</p><p>He slinked back to the bedroom, and Yeosang only grinned silently in triumph. </p><p>“Don’t say it,” Wooyoung gritted, only half-joking. </p><p>Yeosang raised an eyebrow.</p><p>“Don’t you fucking—”</p><p>“He loooooves y—”</p><p>“Fuck off.”</p><p>Yeosang let a laugh ring out loudly. Yeosang’s laughs were always contagious. Wooyoung would miss them—he wasn’t sure how long he had left, but he’d miss them. He’d miss Yeosang. </p><p>But he couldn’t tell him. Not now. It still didn’t feel like the right time. Wooyoung knew that was an excuse, though. It would never feel like the right time. Was there a right time to tell your best friend you were slowly deteriorating? </p><p>He did his best to choke back the cough that threatened to encroach. He lied, again, telling Yeosang he just had something in his throat, but he was sure Yeosang could tell that wasn’t true, by the way his eyebrows pinched together a little too worrisomely whenever Wooyoung broke away from his cooking to cough. He’d been seeing Wooyoung every few weeks since he’d started coming down with it, and it had only been getting gradually worse. Three months was a long time to have something just ‘stuck in his throat’.</p><p>Even so, Yeosang didn’t pry. </p><p>“That was fucking delicious,” Yeosang praised after he scarfed down his bowl, clearing every last grain of rice. “Even if you did have to look up a recipe. But it was just as good as I remembered.”</p><p>Wooyoung smiled. “Thanks. It was just one or two ingredients I was forgetting, really. It all came back in the end.”</p><p>“I was thinking, you know how my birthday is coming up, right?”</p><p>
  <em> Was it? </em>
</p><p>Wooyoung nodded anyway. “Uh-huh.”</p><p>“I was thinking you could make these again, maybe, and I can bring over a cake and we can do a little celebration. Just the two of us, like old times. I know you can’t leave, but I don’t need an extravagant party or anything.”</p><p>“Yeah, that sounds great,” Wooyoung responded, panicking internally as he tried to remember his best friend’s birthday. He hadn’t ghosted Yeosang for <em>that</em> long—there was no way he forgot his birthday. When was his <em> fucking birthday? </em></p><p>“I know I wasn’t able to be with you on your birthday last year, but—” Fuck. When was his<em> own </em>birthday? “—hopefully this year we can do something fun, and maybe by then you won’t have to stay here and hide out, right?”</p><p>“Right,” Wooyoung nodded, feigning a smile. “Yeah, that sounds good.” </p><p>
  <em> When was his birthday? Oh god, when was it? </em>
</p><p>“I—I’ll be right back,” Wooyoung stuttered, pushing out of the counter stool and letting his metal chopsticks clatter down loudly against the ceramic bowl. </p><p>He stumbled into the bathroom, bracing himself against the sink as he tried to calm himself down, watching the rise and fall of his chest across from him in the mirror. </p><p>Forgetting his friend’s birthday after 4 years away from him was one thing—it was rude, of course, but not impossible. But forgetting his own?</p><p>No, no. </p><p>When the<em> hell </em> was his birthday?</p><p>A cough tickled at his throat, and his body ached beneath him. And for the love of fucking god, he couldn’t remember his birthday. Wooyoung connected with his reflection in the mirror, twisting his face, examining every curve and inch as he tried desperately to bring himself back to reality. </p><p>He brought his voice to the quietest, barely-there whisper. “Jung Wooyoung, 24 years old, birthday… birthday… Jung Wooyoung, 24 years old. Jung Wooyoung, 24 years old, birthday… November—fuck—November....no, <em> fuck!” </em></p><p>He slammed his hands down on the sink a bit too forcefully, and his palms grew bright red at the pressure. </p><p>
  <em> Jung Wooyoung, 24 years old, birthday…  </em>
</p><p>He couldn’t remember. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. nemo malus felix</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
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</p><p>“Are we good?”</p><p>Yunho sat back in his chair, pulling his eyes up from San’s chest. “Yeah, you can go ahead and crack it now. If everything goes as planned, that was the last bit of the code we needed. I guess we’ll see if it works, huh?” </p><p>“I’m surprised you were able to get the fifth one done so fast,” Wooyoung remarked from the corner of the small backroom. </p><p>Yunho let out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, I know the stakes. If I’m not sleeping, I’m here working to crack it.”</p><p>Yunho<em> was </em> fast, but that didn’t change the fact that Wooyoung had less than 3 months now on his quickly deteriorating clock, with the looming threat of a seal that was supposed to take at least twice that amount of time to crack, if not four times. </p><p>San closed his eyes, placing his hand over the seal on the left side of his chest. Wooyoung had honestly no clue how the actual seal-breaking worked. Yunho and San had attempted to explain it to him, but all it did was make him more confused—especially now, when expending too much mental energy made his brain feel fuzzy. </p><p>All Wooyoung knew was that it involved a lot of equations with symbols that looked more like ancient hieroglyphics than math notations, and that Yunho couldn’t actually<em> break </em>San’s seals for him—the work had to be done by him, internally, almost like a silent spell. It seemed to require a lot of concentration, because during the process, San usually went quiet for a few minutes, eyes squeezed tight, head pulled down until his chin connected with his collarbones. </p><p>Usually, Wooyoung would have browsed the store and chatted with Jongho while waiting for the process to be over, but today, he had felt dizzier than normal, so he opted to stay in the room and brace against the wall instead. It wasn’t going to take long, anyway.</p><p>San let out a harsh sigh and sat up, and Wooyoung felt a jolt of electricity rip through his body, traveling through his limbs. His vision blurred into heat waves, and the image of San in front of him started to warp. Wooyoung caught a glimpse of the seal flashing bright purple for a minute before his limbs gave out under him, and he barely registered his body smacking against the floor before everything went silent. </p><p>
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</p><p>Wooyoung blinked his eyelids open, heavy and drowsy. He was in bed, blankets piled over him neatly, and he immediately registered San to his right, propped against the edge of the bed, softly stroking Wooyoung’s back beneath the covers. </p><p>“Welcome back.”</p><p>Static collected at the corners of his vision like a vignette. He could barely feel his own limbs beneath him, and what he could feel ached like hell. The room was shrouded in darkness, with only the moonlight filtering through the bedroom window and the kitchen light coming through the door illuminating the room dimly. </p><p>“Wh—what time is it?” Wooyoung stammered, still disoriented from passing out. </p><p>“About 9.”</p><p>“<em> At night? </em>”</p><p>That couldn’t be right. They had left for Yunho’s that morning. There was absolutely no way it was already night time. </p><p>San nodded. “You were out for a while.”</p><p>“What happened?”</p><p>“I’m not sure. You passed out at Yunho’s when we broke the fifth seal. I had Yunho help carry you out to the car, then I managed to get you back up here,” San sighed. “It was a real workout—you’re a lot heavier when you’re unconscious, you know.”</p><p>Wooyoung’s head pounded, and he braced against his palms, rubbing his fingers against his temples. “Right. I remember now. Ugh… I feel like shit. Wait—you said it was 9? 9pm?”</p><p>San nodded, keeping his hand rubbing gentle circles on between Wooyoung’s shoulder blades. </p><p>“Shit. I—I need to make dinner for us then. You probably haven’t eaten all day and—”</p><p>San pressed his hand further down on Wooyoung’s side, keeping him firmly planted in the bed. “No. You’re staying right here. I’ll cook dinner tonight for us.”</p><p>Wooyoung shook his head, eyes widening with alarm. "<em> No no no </em>. Hell no. I don't trust you in the kitchen alone. Last time I left you unattended you almost set a kitchen towel on fire—"</p><p>"That was <em> one </em> time."</p><p>Wooyoung sat up stubbornly, his whole world starting to spin the minute he was upright. He waited a moment for everything to settle before he spoke. "I'm coming out there with you."</p><p>"Wooyoung," San protested, annoyance creeping up in his tone. He knew he could be stubborn as all hell, much to San's dismay. </p><p>"You're not gonna stop me. So either help me up, or I'll crawl out there if I have to."</p><p>"Fine," San huffed. "But you're laying down on the couch. You can give me orders from there, okay?"</p><p>Wooyoung smiled smugly. He knew San had a hard time saying no to him. "Good. Now help me up." </p><p>Wooyoung expected San to help him to his feet, but instead, San’s arm supported his back while the other hooked under his knees, hoisting him into his arms again.</p><p>Wooyoung let out a little yelp of surprise. “Show off. We get it, you have muscles.”</p><p>“I’ll drop you right here. Don’t test me.”</p><p>Wooyoung let out a laugh. “No you won’t.” </p><p>San only huffed in response, setting off to the living room to deposit Wooyoung on the couch, who beamed up at him. “So… what do you want to make me, oh personal-chef?”</p><p>“Whatever you think I won’t fuck up, I guess,” San responded as he assumed his spot in the kitchen, glancing around at the cupboards. </p><p>“You know, you’d look sexy in an apron,” Wooyoung teased from the couch. It was hard not to get distracted staring at San like this.  </p><p>San winked, a playful smirk twitching up on his lips. “That could be arranged.”</p><p>“So, food—” Wooyoung started, changing the subject. Their playful banter had Wooyoung nearly drooling, but it wasn’t like he could just drop to his knees for San in this state—though the thought was tempting. "There's some leftover chicken in the fridge. All you have to do is stir it up in a pan with some sauce. And there's rice in that top cupboard, you'll have to make a fresh batch. Measure out two cups of water and get that boiling—"</p><p>"Okay, Gordon Ramsey, slow the heck down." </p><p>Wooyoung blinked. "Really, you know who Gordon Ramsey is?"</p><p>"Don't underestimate me," San teased with a charming smile. "I watched a lot of TV in the early 2000s."</p><p>Wooyoung chuckled. He couldn't believe how much he enjoyed spending time with San now. 5 months ago, he'd have sooner cut off his own fingers than actually <em> hang out </em> with him—they'd have grown back, anyway. But now, he and San, well… they seemed almost compatible. </p><p>"Okay, well just… start by getting the water going on the stove then."</p><p>San nodded, far too focused on the task that should have been easy enough a five year old could do it. He was kind of adorable when he was cooking. </p><p>San beamed from ear to ear, dimples flaring as he turned to Wooyoung, gesturing proudly to the pot of water on the stove. "Okay, water on." </p><p>Wooyoung gave a brief, patronizing clap. “Impressive. I’m invited to the opening night at your restaurant, right?”</p><p>San visibly restrained a laugh, pressing his lips together, not giving Wooyoung the satisfaction. “Okay, so what’s nex—”</p><p>A knock sounded at the door, which transformed into a furious pounding before there was even time for San to react to the sound. He fumbled with the bag of rice in his hand, tossing it on the counter and rushing towards the source of the disturbance.</p><p>Wooyoung’s eyebrows threaded together, shifting on the couch so he was sitting upright against the cushions. Who the hell could it be, anyway? The only two people that knew their address were Yeosang and—</p><p>“Mingi?” San asked, somewhere between a question and an exclamation. Wooyoung could just barely see the doorway from his position on the couch. “What are you doing—”</p><p>Mingi pushed through the door, shoving past San and haphazardly throwing his shoes off as he stumbled to the kitchen. His breaths came out in sharp pants, like he’d just done a marathon before coming to their apartment.</p><p>“You guys need to go. Now,” he breathed in the deepest voice imaginable, expression serious between heavy, panting breaths. </p><p>San had an incredulous look plastered across his face as processed Mingi was saying. “What? What do you mean? Go <em> where</em>?” </p><p>Mingi braced against his knees, still catching his breath, and his voice came out in shallow, urgent gasps. “Anywhere but here. The coalition… they… they’re gonna be here any minute…”</p><p>“What—Mingi, what the fuck do you mean, the <em> coalition</em>?”</p><p>“I’m—I’m so sorry, San. They offered to reduce my sentence if I was able to get them information—I didn’t want to go through with it, after meeting you, but they—they come check on me every 6 months, and they were gonna know I was lying—”</p><p>“Mingi what the <em>fuck? </em>What are you saying?” San snapped, panic creeping through his throat. “The coalition knows where I am? They know where <em>we</em> are? They’re <em>coming</em>?”</p><p>Mingi nodded urgently, his whole face twisting with regret. “I’m so sorry San. I didn’t have a choice, they were going to—”</p><p>“Fuck. Fuck!” </p><p>Wooyoung watched the anger course through San’s body, fists clenching at his sides, and for a moment, if they weren’t immortal, Wooyoung worried that San was actually going to kill Mingi right there in the entryway. But he just hissed through his teeth before turning to Wooyoung, eyes wide.</p><p>San stumbled towards Wooyoung on the couch, dropping to his knees in front of him, and his eyebrows pulled upwards in concern. “We have to go <em> now, </em> okay? I’m gonna get as much stuff as I can and help you down to the car.”</p><p>“Wh—now? Where are we going? And—and what about Yeosang, I never got to—”</p><p>“Wooyoung,” San said seriously, cupping Wooyoung’s face in his palms, keeping unwavering eye contact as he spoke. “I promised I wouldn’t let them take you. Please. We need to just go now, okay? We’ll figure out the rest later.”</p><p>He waited for Wooyoung to give a quiet nod of understanding, then pulled up to his feet, nearly sprinting across the apartment to the bedroom. Wooyoung heard the distinct sound of the sliding closet door being pulled open, followed by San chucking a large black duffel bag at Mingi, who caught it with fumbling hands.</p><p>“Start stuffing clothes in here. Anything you can fit,” San commanded. Mingi blinked, and San raised his voice. “<em>Now. </em>”</p><p>Mingi glanced down at the bag, and back up at San, expression wracked with guilt. “I’m so sorry, San. I only offered to help because I thought you were a murderer, but after I figured out what actually happened—”</p><p>“Mingi, fuck. I don’t care about that right now. We need to get Wooyoung downstairs to the car, <em> now. </em>And that starts with you grabbing some fucking clothes for us.”</p><p>“Do you need me to help?” Wooyoung asked meekly from the couch as Mingi set off to the bedroom with the duffel, San already in tow with his own bag.</p><p>“No. You stay right there, okay? I’ll come help you up in a second.”</p><p>Wooyoung had never felt so powerless in his life. He was stubborn, headstrong, but he knew if he tried to stand on his own, he’d probably collapse. </p><p>It must have been barely a minute before they both re-emerged from the bedroom, holding two overstuffed black duffels. San made his way back over to Wooyoung, and Mingi headed in the direction of the door. </p><p>“You take the bags,” He ordered in a hiss in Mingi’s direction, hurling them across the floor until they toppled at his feet. “I need to help Wooyoung down.”</p><p>“I—I’m fine…” Wooyoung stammered, not even able to obscure the doubt seeping through his words. “San, I’m fine, I can walk.”</p><p>“For the love of God Wooyoung, just let me help you. Please. We just need to go now. Please, Wooyoung.” </p><p>Wooyoung had never heard so much fear in San’s voice, his eyes blown out in complete panic. His hands shook as he held them out to Wooyoung, offering for him to stand up. His legs went weak underneath him, but San supported him at his waist and shoulders as they fled. </p><p>Wooyoung wasn’t usually the sentimental type, but he knew the second they left through that apartment door, there was no going back to what once was. No more cooking for San in that kitchen, no more sleeping in that bed, no more cuddling on that couch he slept on for months, no more late nights with his hands drawing desperately along San’s body, exploring every inch of him, feeling like the only thing that mattered in the whole world was San against him.</p><p>He blinked, and it was all gone.</p><p>He could only register being carted through the hallway, trudging along weakly as San supported his body with all his strength. </p><p>He didn’t even get a moment to process the loss. It was all just gone. Wooyoung didn’t know where they were going, but he wasn’t dumb. He knew he’d never see that apartment again. </p><p>Strangely, it had begun to feel like home. </p><p>When they got to the car, San pulled open the rear door, helping Wooyoung in and laying him against the cool leather of the back seat. The last time he’d remembered laying there like this, San had saved him from his kidnapping. He’d been so sweet then, and it was the same now—his gentle hands guiding him against the seat, stroking his back softly before pulling away and shutting the door behind him. </p><p>Wooyoung could make out enough of what was happening outside the car to register San growling orders at Mingi, then popping the trunk open to stuff the duffels in.</p><p>San slid in the driver's seat, and Wooyoung could hear Mingi’s voice, panicked and contrite, calling from the lot through the window. “San, I swear to god I didn’t want to tell them—they were threatening me, and it slipped out and—god, San, I’m so, so, so sorry. I’m sorry.”</p><p>San didn’t respond, just shifted the car into reverse, slamming on the gas so the car skidded backwards with a loud screech, then took off out of the parking garage without another word. Wooyoung curled up the back, feeling incredibly vulnerable in his position, though his body ached from how quickly they’d run from the apartment, his legs burning from exhaustion despite San’s support. </p><p>“San? Where are we going?” Wooyoung asked.</p><p>“Hongjoong’s.”</p><p>“But… I thought we needed to stay in the city… for Yunho.”</p><p>It was a dumb thing to say, he knew it was. They didn’t have a choice. </p><p>“I’ll figure something out,” San said, and Wooyoung could hear the panic he attempted to conceal in his voice. San was always bad at hiding his true feelings, after all. “It’s gonna be a long drive. You should get some rest.” </p><p>Wooyoung nodded, though he knew San couldn’t see him. He closed his eyes, but no part of him, no matter how exhausted, could surrender to the depths of sleep. </p><p>
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</p><p>He must have drifted off at some point, or just lost track of time, but by the time San pulled the car to a screeching halt outside Hongjoong’s gated entry, it was already midnight. </p><p>“Shit. I didn’t think about the fact that we’d have to walk from here,” San grumbled through his teeth. He glanced back at Wooyoung, who was still sprawled out in the backseat, body limp with exhaustion. “Are you going to be able to make it?”</p><p>Wooyoung nodded weakly. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll be fine.”</p><p>San climbed out of the driver’s side door, slamming the door behind him, then moved to help Wooyoung out of the backseat. His legs wobbled beneath him, but he could stand well enough. They left their bags in the car, assuming Seonghwa would be able to grab them later. </p><p>“Jesus, why does Hongjoong have to live on the top of a hill?” San hissed as they trudged along what seemed like the neverending hill. Wooyoung’s lungs burned, and his breath came out in shallow puffs. Not even San’s support was enough to keep him from tripping over his own feet, falling out of his arms and collapsing on the soft ground, palms bracing against the dirt. </p><p>“Shit, Wooyoung,” San said, but his tone was more concerned than harsh. “Okay… um…” San hesitated for a moment, then kneeled in front of Wooyoung, back facing him. “Climb on my back, alright? I’ll carry you the rest of the way.”</p><p>“San, I’m fine, I just tripped.”</p><p>“It’s not a question, Wooyoung.”</p><p>“But—”</p><p>“It’s not a question.” He positioned his arms at his sides to accept Wooyoung’s legs. “On.”</p><p>Wooyoung climbed on reluctantly, sensing San wasn’t going to be backing down anytime soon, and wrapped his arms around San’s broad shoulders, and San stood slowly to his feet, getting used to Wooyoung’s weight on his back. Wooyoung felt slightly uncomfortable, but at least it was better than the bridal carry.</p><p>He felt San’s breaths become labored beneath him as they plodded along slowly, San stopping every so often to readjust the angle of Wooyoung’s weight on top of him. </p><p>They reached Hongjoong’s step after what seemed like hours, but was probably more like ten minutes. The minute San set Wooyoung down gently on the step, he felt the eerie silence of the night around Hongjoong’s property. It was serene, but unsettling, with little more than cricket chirps and the gentle fluttering of leaves to remind Wooyoung that the world was still turning around him.</p><p>San tested the handle, but the door didn’t swing open. </p><p>“No. No. That’s not right. Hongjoong always keeps his door unlocked.”</p><p>“It was unlocked in ‘76 too,” Wooyoung breathed from the step. He wasn’t even sure where the energy to speak came from at this point—his entire body, every ounce of life left in him, was spent. </p><p>He pounded at the door violently, so hard that Wooyoung was worried he might break all his bones if he kept it up, so hard that even in just the moonlight, Wooyoung could see his fists flush bright red. </p><p>“San, stop…” Wooyoung managed. “It’s not worth it.”</p><p>“Hongjoong!” San screamed, but it only echoed into the endless void of the night around him. “Hongjoong! <em> Hongjoong!” </em></p><p>“San, they’re not gonna—”</p><p>San lurched forward, air replacing where his fist once connected with the large door. It creaked open, and San stumbled into the mansion entrance, the barrel of a gun brushing against his forehead. </p><p>Seonghwa. </p><p>“Oh my god, San? Wooyoung?” Seonghwa gasped, quickly recoiling his gun and holstering it in his pants. </p><p>His eyes scanned across both of them, assessing their conditions, and it was only then that Wooyoung  realized how absolutely awful they both looked. San was panicked and shaky, his entire body trembling, and Wooyoung was slumped over on the step, probably looking half dead, with his breaths coming out in shallow, heaving gasps. They were both dripping sweat from their exhausting trek from the gate, and probably looked like they’d just escaped from captivity somewhere. </p><p>“I’ll get Hongjoong,” Seonghwa said before San even had a chance to announce his own relief.</p><p>It was only a matter of minutes before Hongjoong descended the large staircase, the soles of his fuzzy slippers clacking against the marble floors as he scurried down. </p><p>San had helped Wooyoung inside while they waited, but he was hardly able to stand, so he sat on the cold floors, leaning against San’s leg for stability, with San’s hand resting protectively on the top of his hair. </p><p>“Holy shit. Holy shit, what’s going on here? Why are you here so late?” Hongjoong asked, adjusting his robe slightly as he took his position in front of them. </p><p>“We can explain later. All that matters is the coalition can’t get to us here through your wards. Right now… I need to get Wooyoung to bed."</p><p>Hongjoong glanced down at Wooyoung, hunched pathetically on the floor, which seemed like enough for him to accept them without question. His eyes connected with Wooyoung’s for a moment, communicating something unspoken—sympathy, maybe. </p><p>“I missed you,” Wooyoung uttered. It was all that would come out.</p><p>Hongjoong’s eyes sparkled, a choked smile pulling up on his lips. “I missed you too, Wooyoung.”</p><p>There was a brief beat of silence before Seonghwa cleared his throat from Hongjoong’s side. “I’ll prepare the bedroom.”</p><p>“I hate to ask, when we just barged through your door unannounced, but—” San started, catching Seonghwa before he turned away. His fingers stroked through Wooyoung’s hair gently. “—Wooyoung isn’t… he’s sick, and he hasn’t eaten all day. I was hoping we could grab something from your kitchen... uh, one of your kitchens?”</p><p>Hongjoong nodded a bit too frantically. “Of course. Of course. Take anything you need.”</p><p>“I can prepare some soup,” Seonghwa said, voice calm and collected. His presence calmed Wooyoung down slightly. He was the only person Wooyoung had been around today that didn’t look at Wooyoung like he was about to break.</p><p>Wooyoung agreed with a quick nod. San prompted Hongjoong to help Wooyoung up, and they supported him as they navigated towards the bedroom.</p><p>San set him up on the bed, and Wooyoung palmed at the sheets, grounding himself in them, remembering the first and only time they’d slept in this bed together before. Actually, now that he thought about it, that was the first time they’d slept in any bed together at all. Back then Wooyoung could barely stand to be there. </p><p>He was surprised he could even remember it at all. Little things kept slipping from his grasp, he wondered when the rest might go. He wondered if he’d forget his own name eventually. He wondered if he might forget San’s.</p><p>San retrieved the soup from Seonghwa when he came to the door, and took a seat in front of Wooyoung on the bed, positioned so their knees were touching. He set the bowl in Wooyoung’s lap. </p><p>Wooyoung trembled as he grasped the spoon in his fingers, hovering it over the bowl of soup. It looked incredible, and yet his whole body rejected the the sight of food, even the thought of food—even though Seonghwa’s cooking was some of the best he’d ever had. </p><p>“I can’t,” he sighed. “San, I can’t.”</p><p>“Wooyoung, you haven’t eaten all day. You’re weak enough as it is. I can’t let you go to bed without eating.”</p><p>“Please, San. I can’t. I just want to sleep. I’m exhausted.”</p><p>“I know. But you have to eat.”</p><p>Wooyoung glanced up at San, and his eyes were sparkling in the lamp-lit glow. </p><p>He let the spoon slip from his fingers, clattering inside the bowl. “I’m sorry, I’m really—I’m just tired, San.”</p><p>San grabbed the bowl from his hands, leaning over to gently set it on the nightstand. His arms wrapped around Wooyoung, and their chests pressed together tightly as San pulled him in for a hug. He squeezed his arms around Wooyoung silently, and Wooyoung could have sworn he felt something wet against him. San's hand moved momentarily away from Wooyoung's body to swipe across his cheek with the back of his palm.</p><p>
  <em> Was he… crying?  </em>
</p><p>San pulled away. Wooyoung pretended not to notice, but it was hard not to react to the way San’s eyes, puffy and red, glistened softly with barely-there traces of tears. His lip quivered as if he was holding back so much more. </p><p>San parted his lips, about to speak, but Wooyoung cut in. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t watch San like that. </p><p>“I’ll eat.”</p><p>San’s eyes lit up, but his voice was still choked slightly from holding back tears. “You will?”</p><p>“I’ll try my best.”</p><p>San nodded, retrieving the bowl back from the nightstand carefully and setting it in Wooyoung’s lap.</p><p>“Y’know, you’re making me kind of uncomfortable, looking at me like that,” Wooyoung muttered between a few pathetic spoonfuls.</p><p>San averted his gaze with a quick motion. “Sorry. Sorry.”</p><p>“No, it’s okay. You just… you don’t have to look at me like I’m going to shatter into pieces the minute you look away.” He glanced down at the bowl of soup, which still looked as full as it had when Seonghwa had brought it to their door. “It’s fine, though. I think that’s all I can manage tonight anyway.”</p><p>It was a measly four spoonfuls, mostly of the broth that collected at the top. Still, San gave a warm smile. “You did good.”</p><p>Heat pooled in Wooyoung’s cheeks, setting them on fire. He wasn’t fully used to <em> this </em> San yet—he only came out when Wooyoung wasn’t well, like after his kidnapping, when he had his nightmares, and now, when he could barely take care of himself. </p><p>San took the bowl from him again, setting it on the nightstand, then wrapped his arms around him, pulling Wooyoung against the pillows with him. Wooyoung had felt the exhaustion all night, but especially now, with San’s arms coiled around him so tightly. </p><p>He wasn’t sure when it happened, wasn’t sure when the switch flipped, but he realized he felt safest when San was against him, holding on for dear life. </p><p>Wooyoung was already drifting into a sea of black when San’s words managed to find him.</p><p>“I’m not gonna let this take you. I won’t let it. I’m gonna figure it out. We’re gonna figure this out.”</p><p>Maybe San didn’t know Wooyoung was still awake—he barely was, falling under the gentle tides of sleep—but the words kept falling from his tongue, like a mantra, as he threaded his fingers in soft strokes through Wooyoung’s hair. </p><p>Waves of black lulled Wooyoung farther from shore, but he could still hear San’s voice calling out to him. </p><p>“I promise.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. nec spe, nec metu</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
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  <em> Jung Wooyoung, 24 years old, birthday, November 26.  </em>
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  <em> Birthday... November 26.  </em>
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  <em> Jung Wooyoung.  </em>
</p><p>“Wooyoung.”</p><p>He snapped his head up, shaking himself back to reality. “Oh. Sorry.”</p><p>Hongjoong’s eyebrows pinched together, his lips thinning into a worried frown. “You’ve been staring at the tablecloth for the last 10 minutes. Are you okay? We can bring breakfast to your room, if you want.”</p><p>Wooyoung could see the way Hongjoong was looking at him, like a child who’d just been diagnosed with terminal cancer or something. In fact, everyone had been looking at him like that since they’d arrived the night before. Seonghwa was probably the least offender, but he could never really tell what emotion Seonghwa was portraying anyway. </p><p>“I’m fine. Sorry, what were you saying?”</p><p>“We were discussing what to do about San’s last seal. Breaking it, I mean. San said you met Yunho, was it? At the address I gave you?”</p><p>Wooyoung nodded. “Yeah. Right. Yunho. We can’t go back to his shop anymore, so…”</p><p>“I think we should call him. Get him to come up here,” San chimed in at Wooyoung’s side, talking through a large mouthful of toast. </p><p>“Doesn’t he need to help keep an eye on his store?” Wooyoung questioned, picking at his plate with absent scrapes of his fork. “We can’t just expect him to drop everything to come and live up here for three months. He has a life, too. And travelling back and forth isn’t really an option either. That’s over six hours, round trip. He needs that time to work on the seals.”</p><p>“This isn’t just a<em> job </em> . It’s your <em> life, </em> Wooyoung,” San said seriously. “Besides, I think it might be safer if Yunho stays here for a while. Mingi said he told the coalition about us. We don’t know what they know.”</p><p>“You think Mingi told them about Yunho? San, I told you not to say anything about—”</p><p>“Jesus, I didn’t. I didn’t. You have no faith in me, do you?” </p><p>
  <em> Not really, no. </em>
</p><p>Wooyoung bit back the comment, gesturing for San to continue.</p><p>“We don’t know what he heard, or saw, while he was at the apartment,” San continued. “He could have looked through your phone when we were out of the room, or seen one of the invoices on the counter. For all we know, he was a spy the whole fucking time. He could have even followed us to the Mystic Arcanum. We don’t know.”</p><p>Wooyoung knew San didn’t really care about Yunho’s safety, and Mingi telling the coalition about Yunho when he didn’t even know Yunho existed was a stretch, at best. It was clearly a thinly veiled lie to get Yunho here for Wooyoung’s sake.</p><p>“There isn’t even an extra bed here,” Wooyoung remarked after a beat.</p><p>Hongjoong’s hand rested affectionately on Seonghwa’s shoulder, who was sitting just next to him at the table. “Seonghwa can clear a room out, can’t you, darling? And call to get a bed delivered?” </p><p>“Of course, sir.”</p><p>“If you’re ordering things to be delivered…” San started, shooting a side glance at Wooyoung. “I was thinking you could, well…”</p><p>“Anything you need,” Hongjoong assured, taking a sip of orange juice in his glass, then cracked a sly smile. “Just name it, I have a way.”</p><p>“A wheelchair.”</p><p>Wooyoung nearly spit out his coffee. “San—no. Fuck no.”</p><p>“What, you think I like carrying you everywhere? You can’t walk, Wooyoung. And you’re heavy.”</p><p>“I don’t need a wheelchair.”</p><p>San’s hand connected with Wooyoung’s thigh under the table. “You can’t walk. You can barely stand.”</p><p>“I’m<em> fine </em>.”</p><p>The table went silent, a glaring indication of what an shamelessly boldfaced lie that was. There was no plausible deniability anymore—Wooyoung was not fine, not in any sense of the word. </p><p>“Seonghwa, add it to your list,” Hongjoong ordered in Seonghwa’s direction, cutting through the tense silence. </p><p>San nodded towards Hongjoong. “Thanks. I’ll call Yunho after breakfast and see if we can get him out here.”</p><p>Wooyoung liked attention—he lived for it—but not this kind. Was his life really worth all this? Was he worth everyone dropping their lives for him? Nine months ago, he was already dead, and there wasn’t a single soul left to grieve him. Now, he had immortals practically moving mountains for him.</p><p>“Hongjoong,” Wooyoung called quietly, hoping to redirect the subject. “This is gonna sound like a dumb question, but… is the lake still here? I mean, I don’t know what would have happened to it… but, it’s been over 40 years now. And I know you said you planned to redo the landscaping sometime.”</p><p>Hongjoong chuckled. It was a dumb question, but nothing about the way he smiled at him was patronizing. “Oh yeah. Of course it’s still there. I’ve done a lot of remodels on this property, but I always left the lake as it is. You know it’s not really a lake though, right?”</p><p>A wave of relief washed over Wooyoung, and he nodded, a soft smile pulling up on his lips. “I know.”</p><p>“Actually, after you left, I had a bench put in. I wasn’t sure when I’d see you again, but I knew your favorite place was down there by the water. I thought you might like somewhere to sit that wasn’t a rock.”</p><p>“San,” Wooyoung uttered, voice wavering with excitement, eyebrows pulling upwards.  “Can we go?”</p><p>“Fine,” San sighed. “After you rest, though.”</p><p>“It’s, like, 10am. We just woke up,” Wooyoung grumbled. “I’m not a baby. I don’t need you to schedule my nap-time.”</p><p>As much as he detested it, San was right. He was already exhausted. His limbs ached like he’d just ran a marathon, and his chest felt heavy. Small coughs wracked his lungs all morning, and even worse at night. Even just the walk from their accommodations to the dining room was more walking than he ever had to do around their stuffy one-bedroom. </p><p>“I’m not familiar with the care of human offspring, but you’re sick. Plus, you woke me up coughing at least once an hour last night, so you couldn’t have slept that well. You need to rest. Then we can go down to the lake, if that’s what you want.”</p><p>“You realize how much you sound like an alien when you say things like ‘human offspring’, right?”</p><p>Hongjoong broke into a guffawing laugh across the table, and San visibly restrained a smile. “Deal, or not?”</p><p>“Fine,” Wooyoung grumbled. “Deal.”</p><p>
  
</p><p>As much as he resisted it, the minute they were done around the dining table, San helped Wooyoung hobble back to the room, and somewhere between cuddling against San’s chest and waking up at 5pm, he’d passed out. It was pathetic, really, how little activity his body could handle before giving out. </p><p>San was nowhere to be seen when Wooyoung’s eyes blinked open after his nap, and the needlessly large king-size bed felt cold and hollow without him occupying the empty space. He must have been talking to Hongjoong, or maybe calling Yunho to inform him of the plans. Either way, he was nowhere in sight. </p><p>Wooyoung crawled to the edge of the bed, draping his legs over the side and planting his feet on the cold hardwood. He could walk, right? He just needed to get out to the hallway, then he could brace against the wall if he needed to. </p><p>He tested his weight over his legs. At the very least, he could carry his own weight enough to stand. </p><p>Without allowing himself to hesitate further, he hoisted himself off the bed with his palms, swaying on his knees. His vision fizzled into soft granules of static, and his whole body seemed to spin on an axis, but it straightened out after a few deep breaths. </p><p>So far, so good. Mostly. He was standing on his own, at least.</p><p>He attempted to take a step, but his weight faltered the minute he transferred it off his right foot to step, immediately sending him toppling forward. He barely registered it before he was already crumpled against the floor, body limp and heavy beneath him, pliant like putty.</p><p>He screamed, frustrated and anguished, and his voice echoed against the lofted ceilings in a wretched symphony. He cursed at nothing, banging his fists against the ground until they flushed bright red, not even caring if he cracked the bones.</p><p>Anything would be better than this—this feeling of uselessness, his mind and body caving in around him like quicksand. It felt almost overnight that he’d lost himself in an endless sea of afflictions.</p><p>“Wooyoung!” San stumbled through the doorway and collapsed down to his knees, bones hitting the hardwood with a sickening sound. “What the hell? Did you try to stand?”</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Wooyoung managed, voice weak and shaky, eyes trained on the ground. “I’m sorry, I just thought I could… I’m sorry.”</p><p>San placed a hand under Wooyoung’s chin, tipping it up to meet his gaze. His face twisted the minute their eyes met, exposing Wooyoung’s expression. Unrestrained streaks of tears smudged down his cheeks, dripping off his chin, the older ones drying uncomfortably against his skin. </p><p>“Wooyoung,” San breathed, swiping his thumb across Wooyoung’s cheek to clear the tears. “You can’t do that. Just call for me next time.”</p><p>“I’m sorry.”</p><p>“It’s okay,” San sighed. His eyes widened as his gaze fell towards Wooyoung’s hands, battered and bloody from smashing them against the hardwood. “What the fuck happened?”</p><p>Wooyoung held his own fists up weakly, twisting and admiring the damage. He told himself he’d stop doing that—stop letting anger consume him. At least he’d stopped accidentally fucking with time whenever he had a breakdown. But they looked awful—thank god he healed faster than normal, or his fingers would have been dappled violet with bruises and swollen for days. </p><p>“I was mad.”</p><p>“I know. I could hear you screaming from all the way downstairs. I thought you were having nightmares again, or something.” San took Wooyoung’s fists in his hands, then trained his eyes on Wooyoung, meeting his gaze seriously. “Wooyoung, you can’t fucking do that. Seriously.”</p><p>“I know. I’m sorry.”</p><p>“Okay, well, let me help you back into bed—”</p><p>“The lake.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>Wooyoung sniffled, swiping away the last of tears in his eyes. “I want to go to the lake.”</p><p>San sighed, obviously sensing Wooyoung wasn’t going to let up on this one. “Okay. Fine. I’ll take you. But first, tell me you won’t do that again. Any of it. Oh, and Seonghwa already ordered your wheelchair. They’re having it delivered tonight with the bed for Yunho.”</p><p>“Yunho’s coming?”</p><p>San drew his thumb in a slow drag  across the other side of Wooyoung’s face, collecting the rest of the tears. “He just left. That’s what I was out there talking to Hongjoong about. Anyway, I need you to tell me you understand.”</p><p>“I understand.”</p><p>San reached his arms around Wooyoung’s torso, helping to hoist him to his feet. “Good. C’mere.” </p><p>
  
</p><p>“It’s as beautiful as I remembered it.”</p><p>“You came here often then, I guess?”</p><p>Wooyoung nodded, his cheek brushing against San’s shoulders on the bench Hongjoong had made for him. Wooyoung’s palm connected with the rich, cherry-stained wood, smooth under his fingertips. He didn’t know how a bench could be so beautiful, but that was Hongjoong for you—expensive tastes for everything, even lawn furniture. </p><p>“I can see why,” San uttered.</p><p>A family of ducks skimmed along the water near the far edge, and the rest of the lake rippled gently in the mild spring breeze. Sun kissed the surface, like a sparkling sea of stars. It looked like a scene ripped out of what Wooyoung assumed heaven might look like, if he even believed in that sort of thing anymore. It wasn’t quite time yet for the sun to dip beneath the horizon, but it was still just as breathtaking.</p><p>Wooyoung’s fingertips danced along San’s thigh until they found his hand, threading their fingers together. “I used to come here all the time when I lived with Hongjoong. Every day, actually, now that I think about it. The serenity of it... I don’t know. I felt the happiest I’d felt in years when I watched the sunset here.”</p><p>San gave a soft squeeze to Wooyoung’s hand, but remained silent. </p><p>“You know…” Wooyoung started, letting his thumb draw over the back of San’s hand where their fingers were intertwined. “Back then, I thought to myself that Hongjoong’s… that<em> here, </em>well… it wouldn’t be such a bad place to live out the rest of my life. It wouldn’t be such a bad place to die.”</p><p>“Wooyoung—”</p><p>Wooyoung flashed a choked smile, the corners of his lips just barely turning upwards. “I just think it’s nice, that’s all. This lake, at sunset. This property. It’s a utopia, you know? It’s almost heaven.”</p><p>San squeezed his hand tighter, nails digging into Wooyoung’s skin. Wooyoung could feel him gulp, but San didn’t speak, eyes trained on the flecks of sunlight that prismed across the surface of the water. </p><p>Wooyoung went silent, too, letting his eyelids drift closed, basking in the sunlight that filtered through the shade of the trees. Birds twittered around him, and the leaves fluttered in the warm gusts of air. His cheek pressed against the soft fabric of San’s shirt, nuzzling against it.</p><p>Heaven, yeah. That must be what this was. </p><p>He fell into a haze, lulled away by the tranquility of the nature around him. He wasn’t sure how long they’d been on that bench, fingers laced together so tightly that sweat began to bead between their palms, but by the time he fluttered his eyelids back open, the sky was marbled with bright streaks of coral and crimson. Sunset.</p><p>“San,” Wooyoung called in a whisper, untangling their fingers and lifting his head from San’s shoulder. “How long have we been here?”</p><p>“I’m not sure,” he muttered back, sounding as if he may have drifted away himself at some point.</p><p>“The sunset.”</p><p>“I know.”</p><p>Wooyoung moved to sit up when San’s hand found the back of his neck, his thumb coming to rest under Wooyoung’s chin with just enough force to tip it upwards towards him. San’s lips came down on his, pressing gently, his hand threading through the hair just above the nape of Wooyoung’s neck, massaging at the skin. </p><p>Wooyoung melted against his lips for a moment before pulling back, disconnecting just enough to meet San’s eyes. He searched across San’s expression, unsure of what exactly he wanted to find.</p><p>San had never kissed him like that. He’d <em>kissed</em> Wooyoung, of course, but always as a precursor to something more. The last time they’d kissed at all, in a way that wasn’t explicitly leading to sex—not counting his barely-there peck on the lips—was on the couch after his kidnapping. But that was Wooyoung. San had never just… kissed him. </p><p>Wooyoung breathed out a warm puff of air, unable to tear his gaze away from San’s lips, soft and parted, waiting for more. “What was that for?” </p><p>“I… wanted to.”</p><p>Wooyoung breathed out the beginning of a laugh. “You know I’m too weak to get on my knees for you now, right?”</p><p>He expected San to have some sort of snarky comment, some witty quip, but his eyes were locked on Wooyoung’s lips. </p><p>San only leaned forward in response, allowing their lips to connect again, this time slower, longer, warmer. Wooyoung pushed back just enough to feel the way San’s fingers tightened in his hair, gently coaxing his thumb just behind Wooyoung’s ear. </p><p>This wasn’t just a kiss. San didn’t kiss like this. San kissed hot and heavy. San kissed wildly, fervently, feverishly. </p><p>This wasn’t a kiss. This was a confession.</p><p>His other hand rested on Wooyoung’s waist—gently, as if handling glass, fingertips ghosting across the fabric of his shirt. Their lips danced across each other’s, and Wooyoung expected escalation, he expected San to push his fingers under the hem of his shirt, begging for more, but he didn’t. He held Wooyoung there, against his lips, tasting the skin, breaths hot and warm against each other. </p><p>Their skin flushed under the rosy hues of the sunset, and when Wooyoung pulled back, he could swear he’d never seen something more beautiful than the golden glow of San’s skin. Their foreheads rested against each other’s, and San’s warm breath washed over Wooyoung’s lips. </p><p>“You know, San,” Wooyoung whispered through heavy breaths, searching for his own voice. Their kisses hadn’t escalated with any fervor, and yet somewhere along the way, San stole the breath right from his lungs. “Now’s a pretty bad time to fall for me. I’m dying, after all.”</p><p>He wasn’t sure what he expected in response, but it wasn’t San cupping Wooyoung’s head between his palms, staring at him with a serious gaze, severe and unsmiling. </p><p>“Wooyoung—listen to me. You’re not gonna die. I’m not going to let you.”</p><p>Wooyoung flicked his eyes away dismissively, averting his gaze. “It was just a joke…”</p><p>San refused to let up, and there was a slight quiver in his lip as he spoke. “Don’t even joke about it. It’s not going to happen.”</p><p>Wooyoung lifted his eyes again. He was afraid to meet San’s eyes—afraid of the tears he’d see, the devastating glimmer threatening to spill over. The sun was barely a sliver along the horizon now, filling the sky with the amethyst glow of twilight. </p><p>He knew what he would see, and it didn’t make it hurt any less when he watched a tear fall onto San’s cheek. Wooyoung leaned forward, wiggling out of San’s hands to place a gentle kiss against the skin, letting the tear dissolve on his lips. </p><p>Wooyoung pulled back, taking both of San’s hands in his as he spoke. “I know you don’t want to, but you need to accept the possibility that it won’t work. All the information we have—it’s all just speculation. We don’t know what will happen when we break the last seal, if we even break it in time.”</p><p>“Whatever happens, I’ll reverse it. I’ll travel back if I have to. I’ll find you before any of this—” San pleaded, voice cracking even at a whisper. </p><p>Tears formed at the edges of Wooyoung’s eyes now.<em> Shit. </em> “Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare, San. Don’t.”</p><p>“Why not?” San squeezed Wooyoung’s hand in his lap, eyes glimmering, though Wooyoung could barely see his face anymore as the sky faded into a dark purple. “Tell me why.”</p><p>“Wasn’t it you that said time skipping like that would mess everything up?”</p><p>“I don’t care.”</p><p>“It’s illegal, San. Really fucking illegal.”</p><p>“Fuck the coalition. I don’t care.”</p><p>“San—”</p><p>“It won’t matter, though. If breaking the last seal… if it kills you, I’ll bring you back. I’ll reverse it. I did it once, I can—”</p><p>Wooyoung raised his voice. “San.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“You know I’m a human, right?”</p><p>“So?”</p><p>“I’ll die of old age in your lifetime. No matter what. You’re <em>immortal</em>, San. I’m human. You turned me once, and we already know how that ends. Humans die. We <em> all </em>die.”</p><p>“Wooyoung, stop—”</p><p>“I was already dead when you found me. Everything between then and now… well, it’s only a detour. I’m only a blip in your lifetime. So why does it matter if it’s in seventy years, three months, next week, or even tomorrow?”</p><p>San went silent for a moment, and Wooyoung watched the light in his eyes shatter into a million pieces.</p><p>“Because I spent 119 years on Earth without you, and I don’t…” </p><p>
  <em> It wasn’t just a kiss. It was a confession.  </em>
</p><p>“I can’t spend any more alone. So I’m not letting you… I’m not letting you die. Don’t think for a second I’ll let you die.”</p><p>Wooyoung only nodded. “Okay.”</p><p>San leaned in, placing another, softer kiss against Wooyoung’s lips, then each cheek, then his forehead, letting each linger for more time than the last.</p><p>He didn’t say it, but he didn’t have to. This was San’s confession.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. meminerunt omnia amantes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p>Three weeks slipped away as quickly as Wooyoung’s waning memory. He couldn’t even be sure where the gaps were anymore, considering he couldn’t<em> remember </em>them.</p><p>He hadn’t forgotten anything about San—not yet. He thought, at least. He couldn’t be sure. </p><p>He couldn’t be sure of anything anymore, actually—reality and dreams blurred together in a dizzying fog. The only thing left he had to ground himself was San, who clung to him like a moth to a flame. </p><p>San was a rock in the world that was slowly floating away from him, a paperweight keeping the last of his cognizance from fluttering away with the wind. He pushed his wheelchair and held his hand under the dinner table, squeezing and dragging his fingertips along the back of Wooyoung’s hand, tracing silent comforts across his skin. He soothed Wooyoung to sleep with soft strokes along his back and woke him up with tender kisses down his jaw, and he carried Wooyoung to the lake every evening, just after dinner, long enough to marvel the technicolor glow of the sunset.</p><p>The still-unspoken word hadn’t left their lips, hanging heavy in the air around them like a halo, but it was unmistakable. Yeosang saw it. Hongjoong and Seonghwa saw it. Hell, Mingi saw it. Maybe even Yunho. </p><p>They saw the way San looked at him with stars sparkling in his eyes, like Wooyoung was the very axis the world spun around. The way he touched him, gently but desperately, keeping a protective grip on him at all times like Wooyoung might disappear the minute they disconnected. </p><p>And Wooyoung saw it now, too—plain and shining right in front of his eyes. </p><p>“You’re so fucking whipped for me,” Wooyoung teased, grazing his fingertips along San’s jaw from their position in bed. </p><p>They had returned from watching the sunset, and the night sky flushed deep purple beyond the window. An intricate lamp dimly illuminated the large bedroom, acting as little more than candlelight. Usually, Wooyoung would tuck his head in the crook of San’s neck, but today, they faced each other on their sides, faces just inches apart, letting their eyes tell stories their words couldn’t. </p><p>Wooyoung couldn’t help the way his gaze drifted down to San’s lips, which curled up into a warm smile at the corners, punctuated by endearing dimples on either side. They’d been there all along, charming creases in his cheeks, and yet only recently had Wooyoung really <em> noticed </em> them—noticed the way his heart fluttered, the way it skipped in his chest as he raked his eyes across San’s face. Was he always this beautiful?</p><p>“I don’t know what that means.” </p><p>Wooyoung smiled, focusing his gaze on San’s soft lips. “I know.”</p><p>He wasn’t sure who leaned in first, but their lips fell against each other’s. Wooyoung exhaled through his nose, melting against San as his fingers grasped at Wooyoung’s waist, pulling him in against his chest with a gentle tug. Wooyoung brought his hands to San’s cheeks, letting them linger for a moment before threading them through his hair, feeling San sigh against him and pull him closer. </p><p>San pulled away after a long moment, disconnecting just barely from Wooyoung’s lips, as if the moment they parted something bad might happen. His eyes flickered downwards, surveying Wooyoung’s face with an expression Wooyoung couldn’t parse. </p><p>Wooyoung spoke, voice registering barely at a whisper. “What are you...”</p><p>“I think you’re my angel,” San breathed, moving his hand up to ghost his fingertips across Wooyoung’s cheek. </p><p>Wooyoung could swear he felt his heart stop in his chest, as if suspended in time. </p><p>He didn’t expect that—not even a little. He blinked, surveying San’s expression for a moment, attempting to locate any semblance of words within him. </p><p>“I thought I was your human,” he said playfully after a beat. He wasn’t sure why his first instinct was always to make a joke. Maybe it was self-defense, maybe it’s just who he was. Maybe that’s why he and San worked together so perfectly.</p><p>“I never believed in that sort of thing. Angels, I mean. I still don’t. Why would I, after all? There’s no heaven out there for me,” San said, puffing out a cynical half-laugh. “But, if there <em> were </em>angels out there, somewhere, I think you’d be one, Wooyoung. I think you’re mine.”</p><p>“San,” Wooyoung uttered, unsure of what else to say. He wasn’t sure how to process anything he was hearing. “Kiss me.”</p><p>“You don’t have to ask me twice,” San purred, a smirk twitching up on the edges of his lips as he pulled back in.</p><p>Wooyoung tugged desperately at San’s sleep shirt, coaxing San on top of him, pinning him against the mattress with his body weight. </p><p>Their kisses danced between sweet and tender, hot and heavy, slow and lustful. Wooyoung dipped his finger under the hem of San’s shirt, dragging his fingertips along his back. San’s lips tasted rich and sweet against his. He never wanted it to end—just the two of them, tucked under the blankets—and, for a moment, Wooyoung could actually picture he was anywhere but on his own inevitable deathbed. </p><p>He wasn’t at Hongjoong’s. He was in San’s apartment, tangled in his limbs, warm sunlight washing through the curtains, setting their skin alight with a rich golden glow, all the time in the world at their fingertips. He’d give San a peck and roll out of bed, then head to the kitchen with San in tow, hoisting himself up on the countertop and waiting for San to follow his lead, settling between Wooyoung’s legs until they wrapped around him, pulling him in for a kiss.</p><p>Domestic, simple, endless.  </p><p>That was the life Wooyoung imagined as he pressed into San, tugging to pull San’s shirt over his head. </p><p>“What’re you doing?” San breathed through clumsy kisses. </p><p>“Shirt off,” Wooyoung ordered. “Off.”</p><p>San lazily worked it over his head, flashing a confused expression as Wooyoung pulled at his own shirt to prompt San to help him.</p><p>“Wooyoung—”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“We can’t—"</p><p>“Why not?”</p><p>Wooyoung couldn’t remember that last time they fucked—that was the problem. It wasn't that it had been <em>that</em> long, it was that he couldn't remember it. It was that he couldn't let that be the last. </p><p>He didn’t know how long he had before it all crumbled past the point of no return. The last of his energy was dissolving before his eyes, and his condition plummeted faster than he could keep up with. He wanted one last time. One last time before he deteriorated, while he still had life in him, while he could still<em> move, </em> while he still remembered his own name… while he still remembered San’s. </p><p>One last time he couldn’t forget.</p><p>He knew, after all, this would probably be the last. </p><p>“You’re sick. I—I can’t hurt you.”</p><p>“I can’t walk, but everything else works just fine,” Wooyoung said with a grin, smiling as he pressed his lips to San’s. “It’s not like you to turn down sex.”</p><p>San’s eyes sparkled as he pulled back, training his gaze on Wooyoung’s eyes. Wooyoung knew that look. The one that looked at him like he was glass, cracks already forming at the edges, ready to break with the slightest touch. “I<em> can’t </em> hurt you.”</p><p>“You won’t, San. I’ll tell you if it hurts, I promise.”</p><p>Wooyoung fumbled at his shirt, determined to get it off, even if San wouldn’t help him. San gave in eventually as he watched Wooyoung struggle, pulling it off with a tug over his shoulders and discarding it somewhere in the bed—right in the palm of his hand, as always.</p><p>San’s gaze raked across Wooyoung’s form, slowly, admiring every muscle and curve. “You’re stubborn as hell, you know that?”</p><p>San pressed his palms against Wooyoung’s chest, dragging them down slowly with just enough pressure to send chills down his spine. He missed this kind of touch—intimate, needy, the way San’s hands worshipped his body. “Do you have any clue what you do to me?”</p><p>He pressed kisses along Wooyoung’s neck, slow and lingering as San’s hands traveled farther, farther, palming at Wooyoung’s bulge through his underwear. </p><p>“Tell me,” Wooyoung prompted shamelessly. He was dying—the least he deserved was a little self-indulgence.</p><p>San’s hands moved upwards, grasping tightly around Wooyoung’s waist, obviously restraining so much more. “Looking at you, it.... you... you drive me crazy. You always have. I’ve never been able to keep my eyes off you, Wooyoung. Not for a minute.”</p><p>“I have that effect,” Wooyoung shrugged with a smug smirk. Fingernails pressed into his waist.</p><p>“God, fuck. That’s exactly what I mean.”</p><p>San’s lips traveled further down Wooyoung’s neck, along the cut of his collarbone, across his chest, dancing along his stomach and settling around his hip bones, placing slow, drawn out kisses just above the hem of his underwear. His tongue laved across the skin, and his hands held Wooyoung’s waist down as he squirmed and whined. </p><p>San’s fingers hooked in the waistband of his underwear, tugging down to reveal Wooyoung’s cock, hard and waiting. A shockwave ran down his spine as he realized what was happening—San was about to suck his dick. </p><p>“San—”</p><p>“Hmm?”</p><p>“What are you doing?”</p><p>San settled between Wooyoung’s legs, grazing his fingertips along Wooyoung’s twitching cock in torturously slow motions. He met Wooyoung’s eyes with a hooded gaze, an eager fire brewing beneath his pupils. “Making you feel good.”</p><p>“You’ve never—I thought you didn’t—”</p><p>A sly grin pulled up on the corners of his lips, red and parted, tongue darting out to draw across his lower lip. “Give blowjobs? I don’t.”</p><p>“Then what are you…?”</p><p>“I have two major rules. I don’t give blowjobs, and I don’t go back for seconds. I already broke one, why don’t we make that two?”</p><p>Wooyoung’s eyelids fluttered, head tipping back the minute San’s tongue connected with the head of his cock, warm and wet and intoxicating. He must have been dreaming. He didn’t mind always giving—sucking dick was one of his many talents, after all—but when was the last time someone went down on <em> him?  </em></p><p>“Fuck, San…” Wooyoung moaned out, unable to control the way his whimpers fell off his tongue. His technique was clumsy, yet eager, and somehow graceful despite his inexperience. Wooyoung grasped at the sheets beneath him, grounding himself to reality as San sunk down over his cock. </p><p>He twitched and squirmed as San’s hands held his hips still, because god it felt so<em> fucking </em> good. </p><p>His eyes struggled to keep from rolling back in his head, but he glanced down at San just enough to admire the slender muscles that cascaded down his broad shoulders, perfectly smooth bronzed skin etched with the black ink of the seals. He really looked like a<em> fucking </em>god—and he was. </p><p>San pumped up and down, working at Wooyoung’s cock in slow strokes. It was barely anything, and yet Wooyoung was a whiny mess, squirming and breathing out praises through his moans, gripping at everything he could to keep himself together—the sheets, the pillows, even San’s hair, tugging and pulling. His body ached already, the very act of breathing too heavily proving to be strenuous in his weak state.</p><p>San released his lips, letting a string of saliva drip from his bottom lip. He looked devastating—lips red and puffy, eyes hooded and cat-like, hair messy from where Wooyoung had disturbed the neatly styled strands.</p><p>Wooyoung let out a whimper of protest. He didn't want it to end.</p><p>“Shh,” San soothed, licking his lips as he pulled his body upwards over Wooyoung’s, letting his hard cock, still concealed in his underwear, brush up against Wooyoung’s thigh. </p><p>San pressed a lingering kiss against his lips, then fell to Wooyoung’s side, leg draped over his thigh. His hand cupped around Wooyoung’s cock, letting his hand wander up and down in lazy strokes. </p><p>Wooyoung shivered under his touch, allowing his hand to roam down San’s chest, his stomach, past the hem of his underwear.</p><p>“I’m tired,” Wooyoung said breathlessly, swirling his palm around the head of San’s cock, hard and slick with precum. He hated how weak his body was now, threatening to pull him towards sleep after only half a blowjob. </p><p>“I know, angel,” San breathed against his ear, his warm, panting breaths soothing Wooyoung’s skin. He pressed tender kisses to Wooyoung’s cheek, just beside the corners of his parted lips, releasing quiet moans at every stroke of San’s hand. “You’re doing good.”</p><p>“Just like this. Please, just like this.”</p><p>San nodded, twisting his hand up and down around Wooyoung’s cock, which twitched and pulsed beneath him. Wooyoung’s own hand grew tired, slowing its pace until he was barely grazing his fingertips along the surface in clumsy motions. </p><p>“S-sorry…”</p><p>“It’s okay. Just focus on my hand.”</p><p>Wooyoung’s fingers continued to trace over the head of San’s cock in feather-light flicks, but it was more instinctual than anything, timed to the pace of the moans that wracked through him. Something about the way San’s fingers grasped him tightly felt almost protective. </p><p>Wooyoung pulled San’s lips against his, pressing <em> hard, </em>muffling the whimpers that escaped through his throat. They stayed together just like that, skin beading with sweat where their chests pressed together, legs entangled, San’s hand drawing up and down on Wooyoung’s cock in a perfect rhythm. </p><p>San reciprocated the kiss against him, pushing back, catching Wooyoung’s lower lip in his, letting his tongue dip in just as pressure built in Wooyoung’s core.  A final moan rose through him, still muffled against San’s lips, as his orgasm washed over him like a tidal wave. He was exhausted, trembling beneath him as ribbons of cum spilled over into San’s palms.</p><p>Their lips disconnected, and Wooyoung panted against San’s shoulder, burying his head in San’s neck. Swirling black clouds fogged the edges of his vision, and every inch of him ached wonderfully, for a change. Wooyoung’s eyelids drifted shut, unable to keep himself afloat any longer. </p><p>San’s voice called from somewhere, but he was already drifting away from the shore. “It’s okay, you can sleep, angel.”</p><p>
  <em> Angel. </em>
</p><p>He liked that.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. mors vincit omnia</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p>Of all the grandiose displays of wealth in Hongjoong’s mansion, the one thing he somehow didn’t have was a goddamn elevator. </p><p>That was why every morning, after rousing from sleep with their limbs tangled together, sweet kisses pressing along the perimeter of Wooyoung’s jaw to coax him back to the waking world, San would cart him across the north wing, then lift him from his wheelchair to carry him down the marble staircase. They were usually up before anyone was awake—except Yunho, perhaps, but he hardly left Hongjoong’s study during the day except at mealtimes. </p><p>“You mind if I take him today?” a voice called, echoing off the lofted walls. </p><p>Hongjoong plodded down the hallway of the south wing, the soles of his slippers click-clacking against the shiny floor.</p><p>San set the wheelchair down at the foot of the staircase, where Wooyoung was waiting on the bottom step. He shot an anxious glance towards Wooyoung. </p><p>“It’s okay, San. I’ll be fine.”</p><p>“Do you want me to come with?”</p><p>Wooyoung shook his head. “That’s alright.”</p><p>San hesitated visibly. He had been so protective since arriving at Hongjoong’s over a month ago, refusing to leave Wooyoung’s side for little more than a brief moment. </p><p>“Okay. I’m going to take a shower, then,” he said finally, directing his attention to Hongjoong, who was descending the staircase with little skips. “Anything happens, you come get me right away.”</p><p>“What if you’re in the shower?”</p><p>“Get me anyway.”</p><p>Hongjoong nodded. “Right. I will. He’ll be fine though. We’ll just be on the front step.”</p><p>San scooped Wooyoung up from the bottom stair, then deposited him in the seat gently. </p><p>“I”ll be fine, San," Wooyoung repeated. </p><p>Was San really that worried that Wooyoung would disintegrate the minute he was out of San’s watchful eye? </p><p>On second thought, he didn't even have to wonder—he knew the answer. </p><p>“Okay,” San sighed, relinquishing his grip on the wheelchair to Hongjoong. </p><p>They headed towards the entrance, and Hongjoong pushed him through the large door, allowing the tangerine glow of the sunrise to peek through as they settled on the front step. Sunrise and sunset, his guiding lights, marking the passages of the days even when Wooyoung couldn’t quite remember what day it was. </p><p>“Remember when we’d watch the sunrise together?” Hongjoong said after a moment, taking a seat on the step beside Wooyoung’s wheelchair. </p><p>Wooyoung exhaled a self-deprecating chuckle. “It’s one of the few things I do remember. Ask me tomorrow, and it may be a different story.”</p><p>Hongjoong puffed out a laugh. “At least you haven’t lost that cynical sense of humor. That’s the Wooyoung I know, all right.”</p><p>“You know, you’re my oldest friend, technically.”</p><p>“Are you calling me old?”</p><p>“You’re practically a fossil.”</p><p>Hongjoong broke into an unrestrained laugh. “I missed you so much, you know that?”</p><p>“I’m sorry I left without warning back then. I wanted to say goodbye, but San… I wanted to say goodbye. I’m sorry I couldn’t.”</p><p>“It’s okay. I figured as much. I worried, of course, but I knew I’d see you again. I just wasn’t sure when. I never forgot about you, though. Not once.” Hongjoong’s voice cracked a bit, but he concealed it with a smile. </p><p>“Can I ask…?”</p><p>“Anything.”</p><p>“When I finally came back… why didn’t you say something?”</p><p>“I knew the second I saw you that you didn’t remember who I was. Besides, that was your first time meeting me. In your timeline, at least. I know I said I’m no expert with time magic, but I know enough to not mess with that sort of thing, in case I created some sort of paradox.”</p><p>“Probably smart.”</p><p>“Even so, I couldn’t help but let it slip just a little.”</p><p>“When you hugged me…”</p><p>Hongjoong nodded. “Yeah. I was sure you wouldn’t know what I was talking about, anyway. I just wanted to hug you, I guess. I missed you. Now that I think about it, you’re my oldest friend, too. Actually… you’re my only friend.”</p><p>Wooyoung fell silent, letting his gaze drift back towards the sunrise, warm and brilliant, climbing above the horizon in swirling hues of golden orange.</p><p>“I wanted to thank you for something, actually,” Hongjoong continued. “If it weren’t for you, I never would have met Seonghwa.”</p><p>Wooyoung didn’t follow. “What do you mean?”</p><p>“I wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t remember. When you first met me, you asked me where Seonghwa was. It was a fleeting comment, but it stuck with me. Something about that name… I couldn’t get it out of my head. So when one of my delivery drivers was sick, he sent his son instead—a young man by the name of Seonghwa.” Hongjoong’s voice fell quiet. “And as soon as I heard that name... I knew I couldn’t let him go.” </p><p>Wooyoung’s eyes widened. <em> He </em>was the reason they met?</p><p>“If you hadn’t mentioned his name to me so long ago, I probably wouldn’t have given him a second glance. Of course, he’s devastatingly handsome, but… well, I wasn’t exactly planning on falling for any of my delivery boys. I requested him as my new correspondent through the delivery company, and the rest…”</p><p>“You love him, don’t you?”</p><p>Wooyoung glanced over, enough to see a rosy blush dust Hongjoong’s cheeks.  “Of course. He’s everything to me.” </p><p>Wooyoung only nodded, not sure what to say. </p><p>“You know, I see the way San looks at you. He reminds me of myself, actually, at the beginning. Head over heels.”</p><p>“I know,” Wooyoung sighed. </p><p>“Is that bad? I thought you also…”</p><p>“I do. I do. But I’m dying, Hongjoong. And it’s going to break him if I—”</p><p>“We don’t know that.”</p><p>Wooyoung let out a harsh cough, right on cue, then cleared his throat with a telling raise of his eyebrows. “Look at me. I’m falling apart.”</p><p>“Yunho has been making good progress on the sixth seal just in the last month. He said he’s nearly halfway already. I took a trip to the kitchen at 3am last night for water, and the light in the study was still on. He’s doing this all for you, Wooyoung. We all want to see you get out of this in one piece. I’m sure he’ll get it cracked in time, and if he does…”</p><p>“You said it yourself. You don’t know what will happen when we release our sigil bond, but you can’t deny it doesn’t look good.”</p><p>“Everything I said was all speculation, based on <em> one case </em> I barely remember from hundreds of years ago. I don’t think you should dig your own grave so soon.”</p><p>Wooyoung shrugged. “I guess I’m just used to fatalism.”</p><p>“You know I’ll always be honest with you. And I am aware that the odds… they don’t look good now. But you can’t give up.” Hongjoong glanced at Wooyoung, flashing a strained smile, voice cracking again, just slightly. “For San, at least. Stay positive for him. I just… I know how it feels to be in love with a human. My time with Seonghwa is running on its own clock now, and I—just stay strong for him.”</p><p>Wooyoung nodded. “I will.”</p><p>“Good. And no matter what happens, I’ll never forget you, Wooyoung. You’re my—well, you’re the only real friend I think I’ve ever had.”</p><p>If Hongjoong really thought Wooyoung would be okay, why did this feel like a goodbye?</p><p>“I should be helping Seonghwa get breakfast ready,” Hongjoong said after a second, swiping the back of his hand over his cheek as if to clear away tears. “Let’s go inside.”</p><p>
  
</p><p>Yunho hadn’t been sleeping. </p><p>It was evident in the dark, puffy bags under his eyes, the way his hands trembled with sleep-deprived, caffeine-fueled jitters when he scribbled frantically in his notebook. With Yunho living at Hongjoong’s, they were able to visit his quarters whenever they needed, speeding up the process significantly. </p><p>He occupied two of the rooms on the east wing—the study, a lofty room lined with countless dark oak bookcases that climbed all the way up the walls, so tall that a wheeled latter was installed just to reach the top, and the bedroom Seongwa cleared just down the hall. Wooyoung got the impression he wasn’t using the bed as much as dozing off every so often at the desk while he worked, and in fact, he’d never actually seen Yunho anywhere else. </p><p>“It’s so much easier to get work done when I can actually stretch my legs,” Yunho remarked playfully, but his voice was heavy with exhaustion. “Hell, I’m moving here after this is all done. I’m sure Hongjoong wouldn’t mind having me around.”</p><p>It was a joke, punctuated with his sunshine smile, but Wooyoung couldn’t help but think Yunho was half-serious. Yunho sat back in the chair once he finished studying the sixth seal, tossing his parchment pad on the large redwood desk. </p><p>“I’m thinking I can get this done in less than 2 months, if I keep going at this pace.”</p><p><em> Less than 2 months. </em> That was pretty much all the time he had left. </p><p>
  
</p><p>The leaves flushed in tones of crimson and ocher, fluttering to the ground in the autumn breeze. It reminded Wooyoung that his birthday must be coming up soon, whenever it was. The air was cool, and San’s hand was warm, cupped around his and squeezing hard like Wooyoung might float away in the wind if he let go. </p><p>
  <em> Jung Wooyoung. 24 years old. Birthday... November, probably.  </em>
</p><p>He wasn’t sure where the ducks were today. Perhaps taking shelter from the chilly breeze. The ducklings had already grown so much since the first time he and San had visited the lake. Funny how that happened—life bloomed around him, the seasons changing before his eyes, the whole world turning and turning while Wooyoung’s life seemed to stand still. </p><p>He wished he could stop time here—freeze it forever and ever and just hold San’s hand, on their cherry-wood bench.   </p><p>
  
</p><p>“Shit. You’re burning up. Bad,” San hissed under his breath. “I’m gonna run to the kitchen and grab a cold towel, okay? I’ll be right back.”</p><p>Wooyoung had been shaking ever since dinner. They hadn’t even made it to see the sunset yet, but his body ached, skin flushing bright red, every inch of his body dripping sweat until his clothes plastered against his body. San removed his hand, which was pressed Wooyoung's forehead.</p><p>San was already halfway out the door when Wooyoung managed a weak nod. “Okay.”</p><p>He blinked his eyes closed for a moment, but his silence was interrupted by a voice calling from the doorway.</p><p>It was Hongjoong, peeking in from the hall, eyes scanning across the room. “Wooyoung? Where’s San?” </p><p>“Wh…. who?”</p><p>He knew he should know who that was. Wasn’t someone right next to him just a minute ago? Who was he? Where did he go?</p><p>Hongjoong’s skin paled visibly, eyes blown wide. “<em> San. </em>Where is he?”</p><p>“S—San?”</p><p>Why was he looking at Wooyoung like that?</p><p>A man rounded the corner into the bedroom, and the puzzle pieces clicked into place. </p><p>“Right, San…” Wooyoung muttered drowsily.</p><p>Hongjoong shot a glance at San when he pushed through the doorway, damp towel folded over his palm, headed towards the bed. </p><p>There was a look in Hongjoong’s eyes that Wooyoung couldn’t quite make sense of, but his eyebrows pinched together. “San. I—uh… Yunho wanted to see you.” A pause. “Is he okay?”</p><p>“He has a fever.”</p><p>Hongjoong gave a single slow nod of his head. “Right… right. That’s probably it.”</p><p>
  
</p><p>Breakfast, again. Wooyoung wasn't hungry. </p><p>What day was it? Monday, Thursday, maybe? Perhaps it was Saturday. It didn't matter, he supposed. </p><p>A hand caressed his thigh—San's. It was warm and comforting, and it drew across his leg in slow, tender strokes.</p><p>Voices chattered around him in an incomprehensible symphony. He wasn't listening. His eyelids were still heavy, and he hadn’t even touched his cup of coffee. Hongjoong’s dining room was so fucking <em> cold </em>, and he wished he were back in bed with San curled around him. </p><p>A harsh cough sputtered through his throat, spilling over violently, and his fork clattered down on his plate, not that he was eating. His hand fumbled against the glass next to him, sending San’s drink flying across the white tablecloth. </p><p>He coughed harder, and black tendrils crept in like a vignette at the edges of his vision. </p><p>He thought he could hear his name being called, but it all sounded so <em> far away. </em></p><p>Everything was so far away.</p><p>
  
</p><p>Wooyoung’s eyes blinked open. He palmed at the sheets below him, and registered San beside him, pressed up against his body, arm slung over his chests, thigh pressed up against his bladder—shit. He really had to fucking pee.</p><p>He could probably find the bathroom. He wriggled carefully out of San’s grasp, so as not to wake him, and rolled over to the edge, swinging his legs over the sides to push out of bed. </p><p>The minute his legs connected, they buckled beneath him, sending him toppling to the floor with a loud crash. His face twisted into a wince as he collapsed, and he was sure bruises would form with how hard he hit. He steadied himself, pressing his palms against the cold hardwood. </p><p>He heard blankets rustling above him, and San pushed out of bed, falling to the floor next to him, a look of concern pinching between his eyebrows. </p><p>“Wooyoung! What the hell? Did you fall out of bed? Are you okay?”</p><p>“Oh… no. I had to pee. I tried to walk, and I… I fell.”</p><p>San’s eyebrows pulled up, a shocked expression drawing across his face. “You<em> tried to walk </em>? Wooyoung, you can’t.”</p><p>“What do you mean? I just walked to the bathroom last night.”</p><p>“Last... night?”</p><p>“Yeah… back at the apartment. I mean, I know I’ve been a little weak, but I can still walk.”</p><p>San’s eyes went wide. Why was he looking at him like that?</p><p>“...The apartment? Wooyoung… we’ve been here for months.”</p><p>“What do you mean we’ve been here for months? We—we packed up and drove here last night.”</p><p>Wooyoung watched as San’s face visibly fell, crumpling with what looked like despair. His eyes sparkled with a look Wooyoung didn’t recognize. </p><p>“What’s wrong?” he asked, voice growing quiet.</p><p>San’s face twisted, and he gave a little shake of his head. Tiny hints of tears pooled at the corners of his eyes, and his voice cracked as he began to speak. “Nothing. Nothing. Just come back to bed, please, okay?”</p><p>“Did… did I do something to make you upset?”</p><p>San’s arms pulled around Wooyoung’s shoulders, squeezing so tight Wooyoung started to see little stars floating around at the corners of his vision. “No, no—it’s just, we’ve been here for months. We've been here over two months, Wooyoung... you don't—you don't remember?"</p><p>Whatever gears might have been spinning in Wooyoung’s head halted to a stop, his heart falling through the floor. No. That wasn’t possible. </p><p>“No… no… I was… last night, I was lying in the backseat of your car… and—and… ”</p><p>He wriggled out of San’s tight grasp, pushing San’s hands off of him in a dizzy panic. His breaths came out shallow, burning in his chest, and he struggled to locate the air in his lungs. His chest heaved, forming tearless sobs that wracked his already-exhausted frame. He shook his head violently. It felt like his brain was melting in his skull, like he couldn’t tell up from down, like he couldn't feel his own body beneath him, like he—</p><p>He convulsed as panicked breaths turned to coughs, jolting through his body in harsh waves. </p><p>“Wooyoung, Wooyoung. Hey, hey, breathe, please. It’s okay.”</p><p>San’s hand found the back of his head. Wooyoung flinched away at first, but relaxed slightly as San began stroking his hair gently. </p><p>“It’s okay. Just come back to bed, okay, angel? Come back to bed.”</p><p>He wasn’t sure where the tears came from, but little streams spilled over onto his cheeks, dribbling down to the cold hardwood. His voice came out in choked sobs. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”</p><p>San pulled him in again, fingers laced tightly in his hair, holding Wooyoung’s head against his shoulder, letting tears soak through his shirt. “Don’t apologize. Don’t. You didn’t do anything wrong. Just come back to bed, angel. Please.” </p><p>Wooyoung pulled back, enough to see San flashing a strained smile through his own little streams of tears. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0025"><h2>25. vivere disce, cogita mori</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p>San wasn’t next to him when he woke up. He palmed at the sheets anxiously before blinking his eyes open, noticing San standing above him next to the bed. </p><p>“Happy birthday, angel.”</p><p>“It’s my birthday?”</p><p>“It is. November 26th.”</p><p>Hongjoong stood in the doorway, holding a heaping tray of breakfast foods. Next to him, half-obscured by the doorframe, was Seonghwa, standing stoically.</p><p>Hongjoong smiled warmly. “We thought we’d bring the birthday boy breakfast in bed.” </p><p>Wooyoung blinked, clearing the sleep from his eyes. “How… how old am I?”</p><p>“Twenty-five,” San said with a small smile, but it came across more like a wince. </p><p>Wooyoung wasn’t entirely convinced it was his birthday, but he supposed he’d have to take their words for it. The gaps in his memory were increasing relentlessly. He truly didn’t know what he didn’t know. And what he didn’t know was that today was his birthday.</p><p>Hongjoong set the tray down in front of Wooyoung, letting it sink down into the comforter. It was immaculately arranged, as if it wasn’t meant to be eaten in the first place. Maybe it wasn’t. After all, they should have known better than to offer Wooyoung food he wouldn’t eat. </p><p>It was all for show.</p><p>“I’ll leave you two,” Hongjoong said carefully, shooting an unreadable glance in San’s direction. </p><p>Hongjoong slipped out the doorway, and Seonghwa bowed slightly, a sympathetic look glazing over his expression before departing. </p><p>Wooyoung pinched his eyebrows together, examining San’s expression for <em> anything </em>. “What was that about?”</p><p>San took a seat at the edge of the bed, taking Wooyoung’s closest hand in both of his and squeezing tight. </p><p>“Yunho thinks he’s done with the seal.”</p><p>Wooyoung’s eyes widened. “Really?”</p><p>San’s expression only fell slightly, the corners of his lips drooping into a frown. “Yeah. He told me this morning.”</p><p>“That’s great news, isn’t it?” Wooyoung asked, cocking his head to the side, noting the way San hesitated. “...Isn’t it?”</p><p>“Yeah…” San flashed another smile, one that Wooyoung could see right through. </p><p>Wooyoung frowned, lips pressing together seriously. “San. I need you to be honest with me. I know…. I know I’ve been losing my grip on things recently. I’m not stupid. I know. So if you keep treating me like I can’t handle reality, I’m going to be upset.”</p><p>San squeezed tighter. “Just eat your breakfast. Please.”</p><p>“You and I both know I’m not going to.”</p><p>“Please.”</p><p>Wooyoung gritted his teeth in protest. “San.”</p><p>San’s eyes softened, and he rubbed his fingertips along the surface of Wooyoung’s hands. His voice cracked  as he began to speak, and he gave a tiny shake of his head as if to clear tears that hadn’t fallen yet. </p><p>“I just wanted… I just wanted one normal day before… tonight, Wooyoung. Yunho said it has to be tonight. He originally said it needed to be this morning, but I… it’s your birthday. I had to beg to get him to budge. And you know how I’d rather die than get on my knees.”</p><p>“...Tonight?”</p><p>San nodded, slowly, painfully. “Yeah. We break it tonight. We have to. But right now… don’t think about it, alright? I want a normal day with you. It’s your birthday, after all. We should…” San paused, visibly restraining the tears that welled in his eyes, choking back a sob from surfacing. “...celebrate.”</p><p>Wooyoung nodded. “Right. Okay.”</p><p>San cleared his throat, swiping the back of his palm over each of his eyes, keeping his other hand grasped tightly around Wooyoung’s, then gave another strained smile—that smile Wooyoung’s heart felt like it was crumbling to a million pieces. San was so strong for him, but truthfully, Wooyoung knew this was always harder on San than it was on him. Wooyoung had already accepted the possibility of death. He’d accepted it long before he met San. </p><p>It was always San who rejected his fate. </p><p>“I have a surprise for you, though,” San said after a moment.</p><p>“What, a bigger surprise than breakfast in bed?” Wooyoung jested. </p><p>“I called Yeosang.”</p><p>“You <em> called Yeosang </em>? Oh my god.”</p><p>San sighed out a breath of relief, as if he’d half expected Wooyoung not to know who that was. Wooyoung couldn’t deny his memories were fuzzy, and he couldn’t remember everything, but he knew Yeosang was his best friend. He couldn’t forget him. </p><p>“Yeah, he’s on the way as we speak,” San beamed, looking proud of himself. “So eat as much as you can before he gets here. Then we have another surprise for you.”</p><p>“More surprises?” </p><p>San leaned in, placing a gentle kiss against Wooyoung’s lips, lingering there longer than just a peck, giving his hand a tight squeeze. “Anything for my angel.”</p><p>Wooyoung scrunched his nose playfully. “You’re disgusting, you know that? When’d you turn into such a sap, huh?”</p><p>A hot blush rose in San’s cheeks. “Eat your breakfast.” </p><p>
  
</p><p>“You live in a fucking <em> mansion </em>? Dude, this place is incredible.”</p><p>Yeosang gripped the handles of Wooyoung’s wheelchair, doing little circles in place in the entryway. He’d painstakingly convinced San—after a lot of pushback—to leave him alone with Yeosang for a bit, at least until it was time for them to convene in the kitchen for Wooyoung’s last ‘surprise’. </p><p>“I know, right? A little gaudy for my tastes, though.” </p><p>“Still, getting pushed around this place, not even having to lift a finger? You’re living the life, man.”</p><p>God, he missed Yeosang. Even Seonghwa had started treating Wooyoung like he was seconds away from shattering after one mis-step—but Yeosang treated him exactly as he always had, even if he was barely a shell of his old self. It was refreshing. </p><p>He’d called him to explain the situation to Yeosang when they’d first arrived—at least, that’s what San told Wooyoung when he’d asked. Truthfully, Wooyoung couldn’t remember, but it seemed to be the truth, because Yeosang took it in stride when he saw Wooyoung in the wheelchair, frail and sputtering out light coughs every few seconds, smiling and drawing his eyes up and down as if to say ‘<em> It’s nice to see you, but god, you look like hell’. </em></p><p>“This place reminds me of—god, remember when we took that trip to that fancy museum in middle school? This looks<em> just </em>like that place. Remember, we snuck away from the chaperone, and they caught us chasing each other down the hallways?”</p><p>Wooyoung smiled and nodded. That was definitely something they would have done, if only he could have remembered. He felt as though the last of his cognizance was holding on by the thinnest thread, a fragile cobweb of memories ready to be swept away. His head throbbed, and his vision started to warp around the edges, threatening to pull him away into the abyss. </p><p>He clenched his fists together, digging his nails into his palms, holding on for dear life. </p><p>Yeosang took a turn down the south wing, walking aimlessly. They didn’t really have any place to go, but it was nice to walk around—well, Yeosang was walking, at least. “So I heard you’re breaking that last seal today, huh? Exciting.” </p><p>“Hm?” Wooyoung asked, snapping his head up and shaking away the brain-fog. He’d drifted away for a moment. “O-oh. Yeah. Did I—did tell you…?”</p><p>“Yeah. You told me.”</p><p>“I guess I just wanted to say goodbye. You know, just in case.”</p><p>Yeosang halted in place, bringing the wheelchair skidding to a stop. “I’m not saying goodbye, Wooyoung.”</p><p>Wooyoung’s heart dropped in his chest. He glanced over his shoulder to see Yeosang’s eyes glazed over with a somber expression, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard Yeosang’s voice so deep and serious. Actually, he couldn’t quite remember anything.</p><p>“I know it’s not… it’s not certain, but just in case—”</p><p>“I’ll see you again.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“I’m not saying goodbye, Wooyoung, because I’m seeing you again. You call me the second you break that seal, understand?”</p><p>Wooyoung hesitated, but eventually nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”</p><p>“Good,” Yeosang exclaimed, pushing the wheelchair forward again. He could practically <em> hear </em> the smug smile that pulled up on his lips when he spoke.  “Now, tell me about you and San. I wanna hear <em> everything </em>.”</p><p>
  
</p><p>San parked Wooyoung’s wheelchair at the foot of the extravagant dining table. It was decorated extravagantly, as if for a special event. Was today special? He couldn’t recall. Candles lined the tablecloth, which had been switched from white to gold. An overwhelming array of champagne was arranged neatly in the center of the table. </p><p>How did he get to the dining room, anyway? He couldn’t quite remember. It felt like everyone he’d ever known was standing around him, smiling through watery eyes. </p><p>He glanced over shoulder, eyes searching frantically for San. Where was San? He wanted to feel his touch, just for a moment—that soft touch that made him feel like everything was going to be okay. </p><p>His eyes scanned the room. Hongjoong, Seonghwa, Yunho, Yeosang… wait—when did Yeosang get here?</p><p>A voice called to him. “Happy birthday!”</p><p>He glanced up. The voice was San’s, emerging from the kitchen, holding a pink-frosted cake in his hands, with gold accents painting floral patterns along the edges.</p><p>“Pretty…” Wooyoung mused, voice drifting away from him, swirling around in the air as he spoke. He couldn’t really be sure whether he was talking about the cake, or San, but it didn’t really matter.</p><p>The world seemed to slip away at the seams, blurring the edges of his vision slightly. San set the cake down in front of him, five candles arranged in the middle, flames dancing along the wicks. Wooyoung's body wobbled beneath him, limbs tingling until they went numb.</p><p>They must have been singing to him, because he caught the tail end of a note, followed by a symphony of clapping resonated in the lofty acoustics of the dining room. The chandelier swayed above him, clinking together. The lights burned his eyes, searing hot-white dots into his vision as he blinked. His stomach churned with the beginning of nausea, like he was in a boat, feeling the waves swell up around him, rocking the bow up and down in the sloshing sea. </p><p>His hand fumbled for San, searching for his hand to steady the slowly rolling waves beneath him. </p><p>“San?” Wooyoung called into the void. His vision grew dim, the figures of his friends around him blurring into distant silhouettes. “S-San…”</p><p>He felt two hands clamp around his, and what he just barely recognized as San’s face appeared in front of him. “I’m here, angel. I’m here. What is it?”</p><p>Wooyoung shook his head. He may have been crying, or perhaps it was the waves crashing against the ship. He couldn’t be sure. The room closed in on him, and the walls warped under the weight of the sloshing ocean tides. “D-drowning… can’t breathe...”</p><p>“I need to get him back to bed,” San said seriously. “I’m sorry, guys.”</p><p>Who was he talking to? Wasn’t it only them?</p><p>San cupped his hands under Wooyoung’s chin, dragging his thumbs along his cheeks in soothing motions. “It’s okay. Just breathe. I’m here.”<br/><br/></p><p>
  
</p><p>Yunho stood in the doorway, taller than Wooyoung remembered. </p><p>He was in the bedroom again, and he could finally <em> breathe </em>without the waves encroaching around him, though he wasn’t sure how he got here. He was propped up in the bed, shoulders, sinking into the soft down pillows. It was a nice bed. He’d miss it, but not as much as he missed the shitty mattress at San’s apartment. </p><p>“It’s time, San. I really don’t think we can wait any longer,” Yunho said somberly. “It’s getting dark, and—”</p><p>“I understand. Just… give me… give me ten minutes with him, okay?”</p><p>“Call for us when you’re ready. I know we went over everything about this last one already, but if you have any questions… you know where to find me. And look, um… the second you break that last seal, Hongjoong’s wards will eject you from the property. He's the only immortal able to be contained here, thanks to how he built the wards, so once your powers are back to full, you won't be able to get in. He can drop them for five minutes <em> at most </em>, but the second he does, that countdown starts. And once you’re done, you’ll have to leave the property immediately. He can’t keep them up for long, or we’re all in danger.”</p><p>“<em>Wooyoung </em> and I will leave immediately,” San corrected, desperation creeping in his voice.</p><p>Yunho’s eyes went wide. “Right. You and Wooyoung.”</p><p>San nodded. “Okay. I understand. I’ll just… I’ll tell you when I’m ready, okay?”</p><p>Wooyoung’s hands were balled into fists in his lap, San’s hand’s cupped around them, and his fingers gripped tightly around Wooyoung’s as Yunho slipped out of the doorway. </p><p>“D-did you say goodbye?” Wooyoung asked, voice small and weak the minute San turned back to him.</p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>“To Hongjoong. Did you say goodbye?”</p><p>“Yeah. Yeah. I did. Wait, you don’t…? You were right here...”</p><p>Wooyoung shook his head. “It’s all fuzzy.”</p><p>San’s eyebrows pinched together, and he moved one of his hands to Wooyoung’s face, tracing along his jaw, then stroking his hair just behind his ear. “It’s okay.”</p><p>“I’ll miss him. Hongjoong, I mean.”</p><p>“You can still visit even after my seal is broken, you know. You’ll be a human again once this whole thing is over.”</p><p>He really wasn’t backing down on this, was he?</p><p>No—that wasn’t it. That wasn’t what this was at all.</p><p>Wooyoung saw the part of him that knew it probably wouldn’t work out in the end. He could tell by the way his voice cracked through his strong exterior. San couldn't conceal the way his false positivity fractured at the seams through every feigned smile, the way his hands trembled as he held Wooyoung more tightly than he ever had before, the way he held onto him like letting go meant goodbye.</p><p>“I’m—I’m really glad I met you,” Wooyoung breathed out after a moment.</p><p>San’s eyes went wide, a despairing expression drawing over his face as if something finally, truly shattered inside him. Tears pooled at the corners of his eyes until they spilled over, dripping slowly down his cheeks.</p><p>“I… I don’t remember it all now, if I’m being honest. There are gaps. But I remember enough. I remember enough to know you made my life worth living, for once.”</p><p>“Wooyoung—”</p><p>“I just wanted to say thank you, I guess. For saving me. Not—not in the alley. Afterwards.”</p><p>A sob heaved through San’s chest, spilling more tears down his cheeks. “Fuck, Wooyoung. You shouldn’t thank me. I should thank<em> you </em>. I’ve… it took meeting you to realize I’d never been truly happy before.”</p><p>“San—” a voice interrupted from the doorway. </p><p>San’s head whipped around his shoulder, and Wooyoung pulled his gaze to the door.</p><p>Hongjoong.</p><p>San cleared his throat as Hongjoong began to speak again.</p><p>“I’m so sorry to do this, but it’s starting to get dark…” Hongjoong’s expression pulled into a wince, dragging his hand along his neck nervously. “If I’m going to drop my wards, it needs to be now. It’s more dangerous to have them down at night, even for five minutes… the coalition tends to prowl the area after dark. I’m really, really sorry.”</p><p>San hissed through his teeth. “Okay. I understand.”</p><p>“So I can—?”</p><p>“Drop them.”</p><p>Hongjoong nodded once. “Alright. You have five minutes. It’s not… it’s not gonna be pretty if you’re still here when they go back up.”</p><p>“I understand.”</p><p>“Okay.” Hongjoong shot a quick glance at Wooyoung, with a solemn gleam in his eye. He gave one, final, sympathetic smile. “I’ll leave you, then. See you around, Wooyoung.”</p><p>Wooyoung nodded to Hongjoong, lips curling up only slightly at the edges, and Hongjoong slipped away from the room. San turned back to Wooyoung the second he was out of view.</p><p>
  <em> Five minutes.  </em>
</p><p>"Wooyoung," San breathed, voice shaky and unstable, unrestrained tears cascading down his cheeks and crashing down to the comforter, soaking mini puddles through the fabric. “Hey, hey. Stay here with me.”</p><p>San held both hands up, prompting Wooyoung to press his palms against them, threading their fingers together. Their sigils glowed against each other's, light seeping through the seams.</p><p>
  <em> Their sigils.  </em>
</p><p>In a matter of minutes, seconds, the sigils that connected them would cease to exist. The sigil that saved Wooyoung's life. The sigil that led him, both figuratively and literally, like a compass, to San. </p><p>San, his world, his guiding light, his north star.</p><p>
  <em> San. </em>
</p><p>Wooyoung glanced back up at him, gaze lingering on the tears shimmering on his skin. He hated how beautiful San looked like that—Dazzling, glowing. <em> Sad </em>. A million stars glimmered in his eyes, an endless constellation shining just for him. </p><p>“Wooyoung. When—when I break it… you… Yunho said you might pass out for a minute. But I’ll be right here when you wake up, alright? I’ll be right here.”</p><p>Wooyoung nodded, a lump forming in his throat. Was he ready? He couldn’t be sure. Did it matter whether he was or wasn’t? The clock was ticking down—his clock was ticking, it always had been. </p><p>It was always a detour. He was always a blip—one tiny little human blip in the world. The world would spin with or without him. </p><p>“Okay,” Wooyoung agreed, voice breaking in his throat. “I’ll see you on the other side, then.”</p><p>He didn’t believe that, but he smiled anyway, and his heart wrenched in his chest.</p><p>“Wooyoung,” San breathed, quiet, gentle like a song. </p><p>“Hm?” </p><p>“I love you.”</p><p>Wooyoung’s heart skipped in his chest. He felt San’s fingers tense, still intertwined with his, and his eyes squeezed tightly, like they did when he—</p><p>No, San couldn’t break it yet...</p><p>No—no, he wasn’t ready… </p><p>“San, wait—”</p><p>San pressed his forehead against Wooyoung’s. Shaky breaths washed over Wooyoung’s lips, which were wet with the tiny puddles of tears that collected, dripping salt on his tongue. </p><p>Wooyoung’s hands trembled. “I’m not ready…”</p><p>“I know. I know," San soothed through his own sobs. "I’m not either.”</p><p>Wooyoung’s voice broke entirely, shattering in his throat, barely registering above a whisper. “San, I’m scared.”</p><p>“I know. I’m right here. I’m right here.”</p><p>“I can’t remember—I can’t remember the last time we… the last time you held me…”</p><p>“You don’t have to. Because after this, I’ll hold you every night.”</p><p>“San…”</p><p>“I love you, Wooyoung. So I’m going to make sure I get you back, no matter what happens. I’ll be right here on the other side, I promise.”</p><p>San squeezed his hands tighter where their fingers threaded together. </p><p>Wooyoung pressed a final kiss on San’s lips, sweet and soft. “I love you too.” </p><p>San squeezed his eyes shut, and Wooyoung followed. He was scared—terrified of what came next. Terrified it might be nothing. </p><p>San's voice was barely a whisper. “See you on the other side, angel.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0026"><h2>26. epilogue: in perpetuum et unum diem</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> Notice of Eviction: Resident has 24 hours to vacate the premises. </em>
</p><p>A smile twitched up on San’s lips. He glanced at the door, the little number <em>732</em> clinging to the wood, etched into the rusted gold plate hanging on for dear life by a few loose screws. </p><p>He rapped at the door, heart swelling in his chest as he heard the lock click. The door swung open slowly to reveal a boy with the shiniest silver-blonde hair, messy and unkempt. He was small, shorter than San, dressed in that oversized hoodie he liked so much, sleeves pulled all the way over his palms. </p><p>San’s heart skipped a beat—it skipped ten. No matter how many times he saw him for the first time like this, it always stole the breath from his lungs.</p><p>
  <em> Wooyoung.  </em>
</p><p>Fuck, Wooyoung—dazzling, ethereal. San’s angel.</p><p>Wooyoung didn't know San—not yet, not in this lifetime, at least—but San knew Wooyoung. God, he knew Wooyoung. </p><p>He had every inch of Wooyoung's body mapped out like the stars and committed to memory—every freckle, every scar, every sensitive spot. He knew his favorite movies, favorite books, favorite music that hadn't even been released yet. He knew his favorite places to watch the sunset, he knew how to make him laugh and how to comfort him when he cried. </p><p>And yet, to Wooyoung, San was a perfect stranger. </p><p>Wooyoung only looked at him incredulously, blinking wide-eyed. It was the same look, every time. </p><p>How many times had he seen it, anyway? Thirty, fifty, one-hundred? He lost count, somewhere along the way. Whatever it was, it wasn’t enough. There weren’t enough lifetimes that would suffice.</p><p>It would have been easier, maybe, for him to go back to a point in Wooyoung’s life where he was happy, to save him all the suffering in the first place.</p><p>But the truth was, it always had to be <em> now</em>. This apartment, this day, this time. This was the Wooyoung he knew. This Wooyoung had nothing to lose, nothing to fear. This was the Wooyoung he met and fell in love with so many lifetimes ago. It was always this Wooyoung.</p><p>A smile twitched up on San’s lips, pulling his arms around Wooyoung’s body, squeezing him so tightly that he let out a cute little yelp before wiggling out of his arms. </p><p>“Do I—do I know you?” Wooyoung asked, confusion pinching between his eyebrows. </p><p>San glanced at the clock on the microwave from the doorway. 5:14pm. Ten minutes before Wooyoung would take the elevator to the roof. Fifteen minutes before San would have found him, pressed his palm against his chest and set his clock back. </p><p>San wasn’t sure why he was crying, but tears pooled in the whites of his eyes, spilling over onto his cheeks without any warning at all. He’d done this so many times, it was habit. Starting from scratch every time was nothing new to him. </p><p>A strained smile pulled up on his lips, and tears gathered along his chin, beading until they crashed to the carpet.  </p><p>“Not yet.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>well, it was a lovely ride &lt;3 thanks to all my readers who kept me going through writing this. </p><p> </p><p>(side note: if you haven't been translating the chapter titles, I suggest you do! they all contained little easter eggs or mini-spoilers, and i spent hours carefully choosing them!)</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i have t/w/t and curious/cat for questions/interacting w me so if you want you can follow me on either @ yunsannies &lt;3 thanks for reading!</p><p>oh, and I have an <a href="https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4rcOO0NftPPTxilKLNCInG?si=xew-lEERQi-s0tiAE_GNlw">official playlist</a> for this fic!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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